


the birds and the bats

by grimmrific



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Adult Dick Grayson, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Dick Grayson is Not Adopted, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bruce Wayne, Gay Dick Grayson, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmrific/pseuds/grimmrific
Summary: Bruce Wayne's partner in crime-fighting, Dick Grayson, has moved out and begun working under the name Nightwing. This change hasn't been easy for Bruce, who feels like he needs Dick's help more than ever, especially with raising the three other Robins that live in Wayne Manor. So now Bruce has a choice to make: address his feelings for his best friend, or succumb to the loneliness of fighting his battles alone.
Relationships: Batman/Nightwing, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Made this as a birthday present for my friend... and got way too invested in it. Lola this goes out to u happy birthday

At the age of 38, Bruce Wayne was an extremely accomplished man. Under his influence, Wayne Enterprises thrived, and crime in Gotham City dropped by nearly 50 percent. He was a successful philanthropist, businessman, and, by night, masked vigilante. But as of this particular moment, he was perched dramatically on the edge of a skyscraper, and he was thinking about Dick Grayson: the fourth Robin he had recruited, and the most recent one to resign.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why; he definitely did. Dick was a grown man, and it was silly of Bruce to expect him to be okay with being a sidekick for his entire adult life. In fact, it was silly to recruit him in the first place, as he was only 6 years younger than him. How could any self-respecting man in his early 30s be expected to live with and depend on a man only 6 years his senior? But for some reason, Bruce just couldn't shake the feeling that something else was at play.

It was an overcast day, and one by one, raindrops began plummeting down. Bruce looked up. For someone who was supposed to be a good guy, he sure fucked up a lot, especially in the sidekick department. His first Robin, Jason Todd, got blown up on his watch and was still holding a grudge about it. His second one, Damian Wayne, despite being his own son, was extremely hard to work with, and their partnership ended in a falling out so severe that its bitter cloud hung over their every conversation since. Tim Drake, the third one, well... Bruce may have overestimated his maturity when hiring him. And now, just last week, Dick Grayson had quit and was rumored to be working under the name "Nightwing".

 _Sounds a little derivative to me_ , he thought.

Suddenly, the Batphone rang. Bruce extracted it from his pocket, flipped it open, and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi Bruce!" Tim Drake's squeaky, prepubescent voice rang out. "Is it okay if Damian takes me to Coldstone?"

Bruce rubbed his temples. Another thing: since he exclusively recruited orphans and his next-of-kin, the first three Robins were living with him at Wayne Manor. 

"Alright, but no double scoops this time. Remember what happened last time," Bruce replied firmly.

"Uh-huh."

"... Is Jason not going?" 

"No. He's doing 'target practice'. He's been grumpy ever since you 'got his face blown off'. His words."

"Hey! Tell him that kind of speak is not allowed anymore. Especially around you. And also, tell Damian to get a scoop of pistachio for Alfred."

"Okay, bye!"

Bruce clasped the phone shut and began praying that Damian wasn't planning on taking one of the super expensive cars. His thoughts strayed back to Dick Grayson; in all their time working together, he had never felt like a babysitter. It was a crime-fighting partnership between two men of nearly equal ability, and it was different. Different and refreshing. He also missed the help at home; he supposed they were partners in other senses of the word as well.

Two suspicious-looking characters appeared down below, and Bruce snapped out of his fugue. The two men were carrying crowbars and walking with intent towards the jewelry store. Typical.

Bruce swooped down and landed in front of the two men. "Stop right there!" he announced in his Batman voice. This job was getting repetitive-- he could almost do it on autopilot.

The two men looked at him dully, and just when he opened his mouth to deliver more sentiments of justice, a crowbar whacked him in the face. He stumbled backward and his nose started gushing blood. Okay, maybe autopilot isn't a good idea in this line of work. 

"Okay, that's it," Bruce said gravely. Many kicks, punches, jumps, and somersaults later, the two men's legs were broken and the cops had been called. Bruce took off into the sky and began to worry.

Ever since Dick quit, he had been off his game. Maybe if he just gave him a call...

\---

Bruce opened the mansion's front door to find Damian stewing in the foyer.

"Uh..," Bruce said, hanging up his jacket, "what's up?"

"Tim's being difficult," Damian replied crossly. "He's been difficult all week."

"He seemed chipper on the phone."

"Ice cream will do that... I think you need to be home more. When you adopted Tim, you signed up as his father figure, and you need to stick to that. With Dick moved out, your absence is really getting to him."

"He has Alfred."

"Dad, be real."

Bruce sighed heavily. With so much else on his plate, domestic drama seemed so trivial to him. And it seemed like other people were starting to catch on. 

"At least act like you care," said Damian finally before turning away and climbing the spiral staircase to his bedroom in a huff. It was the same tone he always used with Bruce at times like this. _You're not a bad father, just a distant one. Not awful, just disappointing._ Sometimes Bruce felt as though his son was more intuitive than him-- he could be a mind reader or something. 

Bruce pulled the Batphone out of his pocket, stared at it for a second, and then threw it on the ground, shattering it into several pieces. He called for Alfred to get him a new one from the Batcave. Can't have the same phone for too long. Security reasons. He walked over to the wall phone, held it to his ear, and began punching in Dick's number. 

One ring. Then two. Then three. Bruce began to second guess himself, and that was when Dick picked up.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey, Dick. How's it been living alone?" For whatever reason, Bruce felt a lump in his throat. It wasn't like him.

"Well, it feels nice to be independent. I've been missing you and the boys, though."

"Yeah, they... miss you too." _And so do I. And so do I. Why can't I say it?_

"I heard about what happened to Jason. Really tragic, I'm sorry."

"When do you think you'll visit?" Bruce blurted out.

"Uh..," Dick stammered, slightly caught off guard. "Whenever I get some free time. Crime never rests! But of course I don't need to tell you that."

"Haha, yeah."

A brief, but somehow crushingly awkward silence.

"Well, I won't keep you," Bruce said stiffly. 

"Right, er... goodbye, Bruce. Nice to hear from you again." _Click._

Bruce hesitated a moment, got an idea, and then started typing a different number. He didn't have to wait. Unlike Dick, this individual always answered the phone immediately. 

"Hello?" Harley answered in her usual loud, giggly way.

"Harley, you know I've considered you an ally for a while now," Bruce began formally. "Can I confide in you about something? Something... personal?"

He could practically hear her roll her eyes on the other end. "Sure, but make it quick."

"Well, I've been trying to adjust to life without Dick Grayson by my side, but it's not easy doing the job without him... not to mention taking care of three boys. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not the hardcore loner I thought I was. And every time I think about him, it's like--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Batsy. Just because I'm done with Joker doesn't mean I have time to listen to your emo poetry. I sympathize with you, and I hear you, but I'm actually kind of tied up right now."

"Tied up? By who?"

"What? No, not literally! I'm just busy." She paused and Bruce could hear things being knocked to the floor in the background. 

"Um... hello?"

"If you must know," she huffed. "I'm dogsitting. Krypto, to be exact. And let me tell you, this thing is not easy to wrangle."

Bruce processed this for a moment, and then said tentatively, "Krypto... the super dog? Why would Clark--"

"Okay fine, maybe I stole him. But not for ransom or anything! I just wanna give him lots of treats and kisses!"

Krypto started barking in the background and Bruce sighed. _It can never be a normal phone call with this one._

"Hey, do you know if this dog has any allergies? I bought this can of... 'turkey and sweet potato blend' for him."

"Why would I know anything about--"

"Okay, bye!"

 _Click._ Figures. Bruce put his head in his hands. Being on the phone with Harley always managed to give him a migraine.

"Are you alright, Master Wayne?" asked Alfred suddenly, making Bruce jump. _How long has he been standing there?_

"Alfred, I didn't know you were back there. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just... missing my old buddy, you know?"

Alfred nodded. "I understand. It can be difficult losing a partner, especially after one has grown accustomed to living by their side. You know, I was married as a young man" he sniffed, "so I know exactly how you feel."

Bruce chuckled. "Is this your way of calling Dick and I a married couple?" He shook his head. "And besides, it's not like he's dead. I'll be fine, you don't have to worry. You know who you should be focusing on?"

Alfred raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Jason. The kid's a mess at the moment, both physically and mentally."

"I believe that's _your_ job, Master Wayne."

"No, no," Bruce denied. "He doesn't want to talk to me. Honest. So I think the rest of you should act as his support system until he's ready."

For a second, Bruce thought he saw a hint of disappointment on Alfred's face, but it was quickly replaced with his usual neutral expression. "Then I'll be going, Master Wayne. As they say, don't 'beat yourself up' too much."

He nodded curtly and left the foyer, leaving Bruce alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs, but as usual, he wasn't hungry. He sat up and ran his fingers through his black hair, considering what to do next: brush his teeth and get dressed, or suit up and go straight to fighting crime. His memories of fighting on an empty stomach weren't exactly pleasant, but lately he just hadn't any appetite at all. He checked the clock: 11:06 in the morning.

His thoughts wandered to the events of yesterday. Disappointed stares and brief, awkward silences. Maybe that was why he had woken up that morning with a particularly bad taste in his mouth. He rubbed his eyelids. Single parenting was hard.

That reminded him of something, and dread began to wash over him. He had promised Tim that he would take everyone to the beach that day, and that afterwards they would get lunch. Barbara Gordon had even agreed to go with them, and she was going to meet them there. With a little under an hour until noon, time was quickly running out, and if he missed this, he would never hear the end of it.

He rushed into the kitchen to find everyone else dressed and ready to go. They all looked him over disparagingly; even Jason, who had hid his face behind a mask 24/7 ever since the incident. Bruce could practically feel the judgement wafting through the air. 

"I'm, uh," he stuttered as Tim's lip began to tremble. "I'm about to get ready. It only takes me five minutes, honest."

He dashed out of the room and began getting ready as fast as he could. Halfway through brushing his teeth, he checked his phone to find one new message from Barbara. It read: _Dad's keeping me at the precinct, and things are getting kind of serious. I don't think I'll be available to help you wrangle the kids today, sorry :(_

"Fuck," Bruce whispered, racking his brain for another available candidate. _It can't be_ _Clark, that guy's busy all the time. I bet he doesn't even notice his dog is missing. Definitely not Harley, for obvious reasons. That leaves me with one option._

\---

It was 11:30 am, and as the three Robins grew increasingly impatient, Bruce stood in the foyer with the receiver to his ear, nervously tapping his foot. One ring. Then two.

"Hello?" answered a familiar voice.

"Dick! It's great to hear your voice," replied Bruce. He really meant it. "I was wondering if you could help me out with something. You see, Barbara and I were supposed to take the boys to the beach, but she can't make it, so would you maybe...?"

"What time?"

"Right now."

Dick scoffed. "Are you serious? You'd better be the one driving, then."

"Sure, sure. I'll pick you up. Be ready in fifteen."

"Okay Bruce, see you."

 _Click._ Bruce hung up the receiver and turned around.

"Everyone in the car!" he hollered.

There were times when Bruce got worried about becoming too domestic-- too dad-like and soft. And watching his one biological and two adopted sons clamber into the Batmobile SUV, fitted with state-of-the-art safety technology and child-lock, was decidedly one of those times. He almost wanted to find where Joker was at that moment and beat him up, just to regain his edge.

"We can't forget Alfred!" Tim reminded him cheerfully.

"Alfred?"

Damian spoke up. "We all agreed that he should get out of the house more."

"Doesn't he already go grocery shopping every week?" asked Bruce, much to the boys' annoyance.

" _Fun_ things, Bruce. Like the beach," Tim explained. "Oh, here he comes!"

Alfred was indeed approaching the car, wearing a formal jacket and slinging a monogrammed towel over his shoulder. In his other hand was a bag of sand toys that he had no doubt dug up from Bruce's childhood things. 

Bruce couldn't help but be annoyed at Barbara. First she retires from the superhero business, and now she won't even help take care of the kids. Not that the trip would have been much better with her coming; Tim loved to tease him about her, calling her his "secret girlfriend". Bruce knew the kid didn't mean any harm, but he found it difficult to talk casually with her ever since. He sort of resented her, although he hated himself for it.

Alfred took his seat in the back.

"You're not gonna sit up here?" asked Bruce.

"I was under the impression that Master Dick would be sitting in the passenger's seat," replied Alfred.

"Well, you can sit up here if you want, Alfred. I won't mind, honest."

"Just drive," said Jason impatiently.

After a short, silent drive, Bruce pulled up the car in front of Dick's new house. _It sure is... modest_ , thought Bruce, peering up at its black shingled roof and worn down chimney. The house could probably fit four people in it, tops. _He gave it all up for this?_

"Shall I go in and get him?" asked Alfred. 

"I'll do it," sighed Damian, unbuckling his seat belt and jumping out of the car. He disappeared into the tiny cottage and wasn't seen again for several minutes. Bruce began to worry. _Is Dick explaining to him why he can't come? That would simultaneously be a blessing and a curse._

Suddenly, Dick emerged from the house with a beach umbrella in tow. Damian followed close behind, carrying a picnic basket. Bruce relaxed a bit. _He's one dependable guy, that Dick Grayson._

Dick slid into the passenger's seat with a chuckle. "Do you know what Damian said to me while we were in there?"

Bruce looked at him and shook his head, a smile starting to show at the corners of his mouth. 

"He said, 'It's a good thing you're coming. I get the feeling Bruce likes you more than Barbara anyways'," he grinned, punching Bruce playfully in the shoulder. "That's one observant kid you've got there. I'm almost flattered."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh, despite the fact that his cheeks were turning pink. "Well, he shouldn't say that. You and Barbara are both good friends of mine."

Soon after, Bruce and Dick started talking about old times. "Remember when you would make those cupcakes every night?" laughed Bruce. "And I would always eat them, even though they gave me really bad stomachaches. Oh man, you would tease me mercilessly."

"I was trying to perfect the recipe," recalled Dick. "I wasn't gonna have any of your whining."

"And then when I went to bed, I'd always find a Pepto-Bismol bottle that Alfred left next to my bed," continued Bruce. "You had my insides all kinds of effed up back then."

"Back when we fought together, you would deliver these cheesy lines to bad guys before you beat them up," said Dick. "I would make fun of you for that, too."

"He still does that!" Tim piped up. "He does it whenever he takes us to work with him." Jason nodded reluctantly in agreement. 

Dick grinned and turned around in his seat to face the boys. "How's Bruce been lately, eh? Still grumpy?"

"Yep!" replied Tim with enthusiasm.

Jason looked out the window.

"He's been stricter since you left," answered Damian honestly. "He wouldn't let me join the Teen Titans."

"No," Dick gasped dramatically. "What a monster." Bruce stifled a laugh.

"He said I'm 'too young'. They literally have 'teen' in the name!"

"Well, you can join in three years when you're _nine_ teen, how about that?" offered Bruce sarcastically.

Dick laughed heartily. "Bruce, you've got the jokes today. You certainly seem a lot more chipper than when we were together."

 _Together._ For whatever reason, that word sent Bruce's thoughts into a frenzy. _Together? What does he mean together? Living together? Working together?_

"Hey." He felt Dick's hand on his arm. "You missed your turn."

Gotham Beach wasn't the cleanest place in the world. Or the sunniest. Like everything in Gotham, it had a sort of dreary feel to it, and when inspected closely, you began to see the scum and filth covering every inch of its surface: garbage, glass shards, bird shit, etc. But, Tim had insisted. And Bruce had to be nice.

Sitting under their umbrella, he and Dick watched as Tim splashed Damian and Jason only for them to retaliate with a tsunami of seawater directed back at him. Alfred inspected sand crabs and jellyfish with fascination.

"Beat up any interesting people lately?" Dick asked casually, hard seltzer in hand.

Bruce shook his head. "No, just basic robberies and assaults. The big ones have been real quiet. Except Harley, if she counts."

"She's never quiet."

"Did you hear what she did?" asked Bruce, recalling their last phone call with slight amusement. 

"No, what?"

"She stole Krypto."

"She... stole...," Dick repeated slowly, his face blank, before breaking into laughter. "That's so Harley. Dog must be going nuts."

"Sure is," Bruce said with a smile.

Dick put down his drink and stood up with a sigh. "I'm thinking of getting in the water."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom first, though." He turned in the direction of the public restrooms, wrinkling his nose. "Wish me luck."

Bruce watched as he made the trek towards the grimy, smelly restrooms. _Wouldn't wanna be him right now._ He took a sip of his drink. His throat was a little hoarse from all that laughter. He couldn't remember the last time that happened, or if it had ever happened at all.

Alfred stopped exploring the shore and walked over to Bruce. "Master Wayne, there's something I wish to share with you."

"Go ahead, Alfred."

"Do you recall the conversation we had in the car regarding your stomachaches?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I must confess: I never left Pepto-Bismol on your bedside table."

Bruce was slightly taken aback by the randomness of the confession. "Alright, then who did?"

"I witnessed Master Dick do it every single night," replied Alfred. "I must admit, it puzzles me that he didn't rectify your mistake during the car ride."

Bruce was even more puzzled. Why would Dick not own up to his good deed? And now that he knew, should he thank him or not say anything?

In the distance, he could see Dick returning from the bathrooms. Alfred said nothing and walked back to the shoreline.

Dick arrived next to Bruce and stood over him. The sun overhead gave the ends of his brown hair a golden glow. "Somebody graffitied that dumb 'Jingle Bells' parody on the stall. You know, the one where you smell and I lay an egg."

Bruce gave a halfhearted chuckle. "Yeah, kids will be kids."

"Anyway, I think I am gonna get in the water," Dick said, gazing out at the horizon. "You coming?" Bruce shook his head. Dick shrugged and began taking his shirt off. 

As Dick walked in the direction of the water, Bruce couldn't help but stare. He looked as fit as ever, and had somehow lost even _more_ weight. Must be the lack of cupcakes in his diet.

Dick submerged himself in the water without hesitation, much to the excitement of the others. He was immediately drafted into the "Splash War" as the kids called it. Tim splashed him in the face, and in retaliation, Dick scooped him up and began dunking him under the waves as the boy laughed with glee.

As much as Bruce wanted to deny it, Dick's resignation didn't make sense at all. After working together, living together, and practically co-parenting together for years, he left abruptly and with little explanation as to why. Bruce could see how fond he was of these kids, and this Pepto-Bismol thing made him realize that Dick was actually quite fond of him, too. It was a bit of a relief to know that Bruce's own fondness was requited (he needed more male friendships in his life) but it raised the question further: why?

 _Dick said it himself, we were_ ' _together'_ , Bruce thought as the sky grew cloudy. _What could his reason possibly have been for leaving, and if there was a reason, why didn't he tell me?_

One by one, raindrops began to plummet towards the ground. Dick was hiding something, and whatever it was, he was too chipper about it. 

Dick made eye contact with Bruce from the water, and gave a smile and a thumbs up. But looking closely, Bruce thought he could see a sadness hidden behind those blue eyes of his. 


	3. Chapter 3

After it started raining, Bruce insisted that they leave and go somewhere dryer. Dick suggested the burger place down the street, and so that was where they went. It seemed like everyone wanted Bruce's attention during that lunch-- or, more realistically, they just wanted him to stop stewing in silence and have fun -- but Bruce could only focus on Dick. He just couldn't help it. There was an alluring aura of mystery surrounding his every move, and it seemed like Bruce was the only one who had caught on.

Sitting alone in the parlor of Wayne Mansion now, Bruce could still remember his own order: a salad with grilled chicken, and Dick's order: a double bacon cheeseburger with onion rings. He could remember looking in bewilderment as he scarfed down the greasy burger. _For someone who's been losing so much weight, his diet has only gotten worse._

He could also remember bickering with Dick over the bill. Dick kept insisting that he would pay, only to reach into his pockets to find that he was broke. Bruce smirked and pulled out his credit card emblazoned with the Batman symbol, which Dick teased him for endlessly, and triumphantly paid for the meal. _I hope he just forgot to bring money and isn't actually broke. I hope._

A fire crackled away in the fireplace, just as it did most nights at Wayne Manor. Bruce took another sip of the pinot grigio he had ordered Alfred to bring down for him. This was his fourth glass. Of course, he always felt like a drink after having "family time" but this was different. There was a sort of abstract turmoil brewing inside of him-- something he felt, at this point, that he had to forcefully dull.

Noises coming from the kitchen. Bruce looked up to see Damian making himself the usual: a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. Bruce watched him with a sort of inebriated fascination for a moment before slurring out, "Damian, come here a second."

Damian finished assembling his sandwich and took the seat across from Bruce, resting it in his lap. "Yes?"

"You're the intuitive one, you can read people good," Bruce continued, as Damian raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Have you noticed Dick acting... funny?"

Damian groaned. "Dad, you have to let this go. He moved out, just accept that he's doing fine on his own."

"No, no, he's acting different!" Bruce said a little too loudly. "He laughs more, he eats different things... but none of it seems genuine. I have a hunch that he's really, really sad."

Damian scoffed. "So, what, you're like, the master of emotions now?"

"Far from it," replied Bruce in a rare moment of self-awareness. "But I know I'm right about this one thing."

"I did not plan on telling you this tonight, dad," said Damian seriously. "But you're really testing me. You wanna know what I think? Here it is: you're _guilty_."

Bruce was incapable of processing that statement in his drunken stupor. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're _guilty_ that you drove Dick away, you're _guilty_ about what happened to Jason, you're _guilty_ about hating Barbara for no reason--"

"Hey, hey, I don't _hate_ Barbara."

"Yes, you do," Damian said disparagingly. "I have never seen you act like this before. What is it about Dick that does this to you? Please don't tell me you're gonna act like this when Jason moves out. Or when I move out."

"Ew, no, that's gross," slurred Bruce with a wave of his hand.

"What? Why? Why is it gross?" puzzled Damian. _Oh shit. I may have fucked up._

"It's just that," Bruce began slowly, "you're my son. Dick was my partner. Business partner, sidekick, other stuff too. And it hurts when your partner suddenly leaves because you don't know what you're gonna do without him. The person who always shared the load with you suddenly disappears, and that same load starts to crush you to death. It's not easy. And you really want to know something? Today was the first day I've laughed in a long, long time. And when I was watching him horse around with you guys at the beach, I wanted nothing more than for him to stay. To come home with us and be my partner again, and act like that whole 'moving out' thing never happened. Because I knew that as soon as he went back to his dilapidated shack of a home, I'd be alone again. And do you want to know what I discovered recently? _I hate being alone_."

Bruce saw something dawn on Damian. He was having an epiphany about his father that changed everything, but before he could open his mouth to speak, the alarm went off. He looked out the window behind him to see the bat signal shining in the sky. Bruce tried to get up, but Damian stopped him.

"I'll go. You're not in the right condition," he said before running out of the room to suit up.

Once again, Bruce was alone in the parlor, feeling even more miserable than before. His oldest hated him, his middle child was off doing his job because he was too inebriated, and his youngest was constantly seeking attention from him that he would never get. He was a terrible father. With Dick, it had been so easy...

He stood up with great difficulty, and Damian re-entered the parlor in his Robin suit. "Dad, before I go..."

"It's okay, Damian."

"No, please, listen," he pleaded. There was real urgency in his voice. "I need you to know this. I need you to know that it's okay--"

"That's enough."

"-- To be in love with someone."

Those words made Bruce's heart sink. His teenage son had read him once again, and there was no evidence to suggest any different. It was what he always feared: he was in love with Dick Grayson. 

Damian had run off, but his words hung still in the air. It was only now that Bruce became aware that the alarm was still ringing. He walked to the farthest corner of the room and shut it off. With a heavy sigh, he started his ascent up the stairs to his bedroom.

\---

In _love_ with Dick Grayson. In _love_ with the man who had left without explanation, in _love_ with the man he had been worrying about constantly, in _love_ with his former sidekick, in _love_ with the man with sadness behind his laughter, in _love_ with the man who hid his good deeds from the world, in _love_ with the man who parented with him, who fought with him, who--

"You've hardly touched your breakfast, Master Wayne."

Bruce was brought back to reality, with slight embarrassment at the fact that he had been doing nothing but poking at his eggs ever since he sat down to eat. "I'm... not hungry, Alfred. You can take this back, thanks." That was a lie, he was hungover and needed to eat something, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't know if it was guilt or just plain old masochism, but he just couldn't do it.

The phone rang. Bruce stared at it with fear rising in his throat. _How can I talk to Dick now that I know I love him?_

He slowly got up and approached the phone. Then he picked up the receiver, held it to his ear, and held his breath. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bats."

He sighed with relief. "Harley, it's really good to hear from you. What's up? How's Krypto?"

"Clark noticed and took him back," she said with a touch of sadness. "Just when he was starting to like me! Supes didn't beat me up or anything, though. Just gave me a stern talking-to. And I won't lie, I was kind of turned on."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "That's great, Harley. What is it that you called me about again?"

"Bruce, I want you to be real with me for a second: did you even notice that Damian didn't come home last night?"

Frozen with panic, he slowly stuttered out, "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"I found him passed out near the bodega I usually go to. It looked like he had taken some blows to the head. I brought him back to my apartment, but it's not safe to keep him here for very long. Ever since I broke up with Joker, I've had a target on my back, so to speak."

"Oh my god," Bruce managed to get out. "I-I need to go there right now. I'll be there in a few minutes--"

"No need, Bruce. Dick already got him."

"... What?"

"I called you earlier this morning, but you didn't pick up. So I called Dick. He's probably on his way to your place with the kid right now."

_Stupid hangover stupid stupid stupid..._

"Well, thanks Harley. I'm just glad he's safe," Bruce said with mixed relief. 

"Don't mention it. Seriously, never mention this again."

 _Click._ Dial tone. Bruce slowly put the phone back on the hook. Once again, he had hurt the people he loved because he couldn't deal with his shit. He probably would have started breaking things out of anger if not for the fact that Dick and Damian were going to walk through that door at any moment.

As if on cue, they walked through the door. 

"Easy, little buddy," Dick said softly as he supported Damian with his arm. He looked pretty beat up, and was barely lucid. Dick was practically dragging him across the floor. "Bruce, can you help me get him up the stairs to his room?"

Bruce nodded and gingerly took Damian's hand. One by one, they climbed each step until Damian was safe in his bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows. 

"Let me know if you need anything, alright?" Dick assured him as he slowly shut the door. Then he turned to Bruce. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bruce couldn't help but be taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm saying this because I care about you: you have been a fucking mess. You can barely look after the kids, let alone yourself. I could ignore it before, but now that it's endangering their lives directly, I can't. What if it was _Joker_ that Gordon was signaling you about? What then?"

Bruce looked at the ground shamefully.

"I know you're not okay, so please tell me what's wrong," Dick reiterated.

 _I care about you, too. I love you._ "Why are you so sure there's something wrong with me? You don't even live here."

"You don't talk to the kids or Alfred at all, and the only time you feel happy anymore is when I'm around." He paused when he saw Bruce's panicked expression. "That's right, Damian told me. What he didn't tell me, though, is what the hell is wrong with you in the first place. So please, _tell me_."

"... Only if you tell me what's wrong with you first. I've been worried sick."

"You're worried?"

"Yes, you asshole. If you haven't noticed, I've only had something 'wrong with me' ever since you moved out. You've been acting funny, losing weight... so you tell me first."

Dick blinked. "You really have gone crazy. You think that just because I'm happy without you, there's something wrong with me?"

"No, that's not it, I-," Bruce ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. "I'm just worried."

"Bruce, I want you to listen to me carefully: there is nothing wrong with me."

"Then why did you leave?" Bruce snapped. "Why did you move out on a day's notice, without even telling me why? Why did you wait until I depended on you, and then abandon me? Why did you leave the kids alone with a father figure as shitty as me? Why did you move to a run-down old house instead of continuing to live in a mansion? Why did you suddenly leave me alone with the crushing weight of my job, and three kids to raise? _Why_ , Dick?

Dick said nothing, just looked at the ground. Finally, he said, "You want to know why I moved out."

"Yes," Bruce pleaded. "Please."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's an invasion of my privacy."

"Dick, I need to know!"

"Why, Bruce?" he asked bitterly.

"Because I _love_ you!" 

Those last three words hung in the air like a fog. Nobody said anything for a while, and Bruce could see the pain in Dick's eyes as he tried to formulate an answer. Finally, he looked up at Bruce.

"That's the same reason I can't tell you."

He stepped forward and hugged Bruce tightly. Bruce hesitated, and then hugged back. They remained like that silently for a few moments.

Dick pulled away. "If you really love me like I love you, you need to respect my privacy. At least until I'm ready to tell you."

Bruce nodded reluctantly. _Okay, we're making progress. Even if it's not the kind of progress I had in mind._

"And another thing: please, please be there for the kids. I don't live here anymore, so now it's up to you to parent. You can't run away from responsibility," Dick urged him. "You are Batman, aren't you?"

Bruce chuckled. "Yeah..."

"See?" said Dick, grinning. He turned to leave, but then remembered something and turned back around. "One more thing: remember how you said Alfred used to leave Pepto-Bismol by your bed at night?"

"Yeah."

"That was actually me, I just didn't know how to tell you."

"No," gasped Bruce.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I was trying too hard to make our relationship seem purely platonic. I guess now we know better," Dick replied jokingly. "Seeya."

Bruce waved and blew a kiss dramatically. Dick laughed and blew one back before walking down the stairs and out of sight. Bruce took a deep breath. That conversation had his heart going a million miles a minute. Especially that last part. 

From the other side of the door, he heard Damian cough. Bruce opened it slightly to find his son sleeping fitfully; whoever he faced off with really messed him up. Bruce descended the staircase to the kitchen, filled up a glass with water, and brought it back up to Damian's room, setting it on his bedside table. He smoothed his son's hair back fondly, and for a second he considered planting a kiss on his forehead. _No, not there yet. Still too weird._

Instead, he simply opened the window to let some fresh air in, and left to go to bed. _G_ _ood enough for now._


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce was woken up by the sound of screaming coming from Damian's room. He jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hall, throwing open the door to find the boy sitting up in his bed, panting and covered in sweat. The rising sun was casting orange streaks of light through the window and over his anguished face.

"Dad," he whimpered. "Dad, I'm sorry... I shouldn't h-have gone, I..."

"No. No, hey," Bruce said soothingly, taking his son's hand in his. "Don't say that. Never say that. I shouldn't have been drunk that night, and--"

"You don't get it!" Damian cried, trying to get out of bed. He then winced, clutching his wounds. "Dad, please listen to me. It w-was... it was _him_."

Bruce's blood ran cold in his veins as images of Joker's gaunt, white face flashed through his mind. The only man who had ever terrified him to his core. _No, please, please. Not now. Everything was going to be alright._

"You didn't hear him, dad, h-he said he was g-going t-to..."

His stutter was getting worse by the minute. Bruce was practically paralyzed with worry and terror.

"H-he said he was g-going to do t-to me... what he did to J-Jason..."

Bruce gulped as beads of sweat started to run down his face. "And then he... let you go?" he asked tentatively.

Damian hesitated. "He gave me something f-first. A m-message--"

He suddenly doubled over in pain. Bruce stepped forward and tried to steady him. "What kind of message, Damian?"

"On my b-back..."

Bruce quickly removed Damian's shirt and turned him around. One by one, he began to remove the bandages as Damian groaned in pain. He removed the last one and his heart sunk. He stepped back, his entire world crashing around him.

 _I have the rest_ , it read. Underneath, crude carvings of Dick, Tim, Jason, Alfred, and Barbara hung by their necks from a flaming ferris wheel.

Bruce jolted awake once again, hyperventilating and sweating through his sheets from that brutal nightmare. This time, he pinched himself to see if he was truly awake, and he was. Outside, the sun was rising, and from downstairs, he could smell the breakfast that Alfred was cooking. He laid back in bed and covered his face with his hands. _I'm a terrible father._

As much as he didn't want to get out of bed and disappoint anybody further, he suddenly remembered what Dick had told him last night about being there for his kids, and that was enough to make him groggily and reluctantly get up and start the day. 

The first thing he did was check on Damian; after a dream like that, it would be neglectful not to. He slowly pushed open the bedroom door to find his son lying very still in bed, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in and out softly. Bruce let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The glass of water that he had left there was now half empty, so Damian had to have been awake at some point. _I'll leave him be for now._

As he closed the door behind him, he suddenly became very aware that he hadn't seen his other sons in a while. _I should check to see that they're okay... I don't want another situation like Damian's on my hands._

He walked a few doors down to Tim's bedroom and knocked. "Tim, are you awake? It's breakfast time, I... know how much you like breakfast." _Stupid stupid stupid._

"Do you need something, Bruce?" Tim called out from the other side of the door.

"Well, no... I just wanted to check on you."

A bewildered silence from the other side. Then, Tim finally said, "Well, thanks."

Bruce moved on to Jason's room. He could already tell this was going to be pleasant. He knocked once. Then twice. "Jason? Breakfast is almost ready."

He heard rustling from one corner of the room, and then Jason's groggy, tired voice grumbling, "When it's ready, Alfred will tell us. That's how it always goes. What do you want from me, Bruce?"

"Nothing," replied Bruce with a forced chuckle. "Why does everyone think I want something? Can I not check on my sons every once in a while?"

Jason sighed heavily. "Whatever makes you feel better."

Bruce felt a lump in his throat as Jason resumed his sleep. _It can't be too late to start being a dad, right? It's never too late. Or maybe..._

He looked over at the family portrait that rested on top of the hallway cabinet. He and Dick were smiling and leaning towards each other, and Bruce's arm was around Alfred, who stood there stiffly as he always did. Tim, only 8 years old, was hugging Damian, who was laughing. Jason, who was standing the farthest from the group, looked right ahead with a neutral smile.

_Maybe it depends on the child._

During breakfast, Bruce chewed his bacon slowly as he tried to think of topics to discuss with his sons. One by one, the boys trudged sleepily downstairs and joined him at the table.

First was Tim, who seemed to be the most awake out of all of them.

Then Jason, who had a case of the morning grumps. ( _And the afternoon grumps, and the evening grumps_ , thought Bruce.)

Damian was running a bit late. 

"Should someone go wake him up?" asked Tim, unaware of what had happened last night.

"I'll do it," Jason sighed, starting to get up.

"No!" Bruce shouted. Everyone looked at him. "I mean... no, I'll do it."

As he ascended the staircase, blushing crimson, he heard Tim and Jason talking in hushed voices.

"He's trying too hard," Jason said. "It's hard to watch."

"It's weird. I don't know if I like it, really," Tim replied, shrugging. "But he means well."

Trying not to let his kids' indifference hinder him, he continued making his way to Damian's bedroom door, only to find it ajar. Instinctively, fear began rising in his throat.

"Damian?" he called out tentatively, pushing the door open to find the boy sitting on his bed, facing away from Bruce with his shoulders slumped. "Are you okay? You didn't come down for breakfast."

"I'm sorry, dad," Damian said quietly. "I told Dick about some of the things you said."

"Oh," Bruce chuckled with relief. "Well, I don't care about that. Dick already told me. I'm fine."

Damian looked slightly relieved, but still troubled by something. "Dad? I don't remember much about last night, but I think I remember... Barbara being there."

"Barbara?" Bruce repeated, puzzled. "Walk me through everything you remember, in chronological order."

Damian grabbed the glass from his bedside table and took a shaky, slow sip, swallowing with great difficulty. "When I left the house, it was dark," he began. "I made it to the tower without any problems, and Gordon wasn't happy to see me there by myself. He said it was a big task, too big for someone my age, but I kept insisting that I wanted to help. He got on the phone and the next thing I knew, Barbara was there in the Batgirl suit. He told her to go with me, and eventually we got to the place where the criminals were. Some kind of gang, and I think they kidnapped somebody? It was in a big place with high walls and lots of stairs..."

Bruce waited intently for him to continue.

"My memory blocks the rest out. I don't remember how Harley found me, I only remember certain moments from Dick taking me home... but I know Barbara never got back from that place. What if they kidnapped her, t-too, dad? What if they _killed_ her, o-or--"

"Damian, calm down," Bruce assured him, trying to keep his tone leveled. Damian's stutter was coming back, and the similarities to his dream were starting to worry him. "Barbara's a grown woman, she's probably fine. We just need to check on her, don't we? Do you remember anything about the men that ambushed you?"

"They were working f-for," Damian recalled slowly, "P-p-Penguin."

Penguin. Not as inherently terrifying as Joker, but still dangerous. Plus, Penguin had connections to some very powerful people. This was bad.

"I'll take care of it, Damian. You stay here and eat your breakfast," Bruce said, a little more sternly than he meant to.

"If I didn't go out there, she wouldn't have been sent after me..."

"Stop it."

Damian was silent. Bruce found it slightly offputting how submissive his son was. He hoped and prayed that it wasn't a sign of something deeper. _I think I've fucked up enough already, thank you very much._

He stood up to leave, but before he was out the door, Damian said, "Dad?"

"What?" Bruce replied, turning to face his son.

"Be nice to her, please," Damian said timidly. "If you end up saving her."

"Uh... of course I will," Bruce replied, puzzled. He turned back around and left, all the while feeling Damian's worried gaze piercing through him.

\---

 _A big place with high walls and lots of stairs_ , Bruce concentrated, flying high above Gotham less than ten minutes later. _If they really were working for Penguin, then that's gotta be his mansion on the south side. Good thing I'm almost there._

He swooped downward and landed on the top of the bank. He quickly searched his suit to make sure he had the correct weapons and gadgets stowed away. This was always his least favorite part. The anticipation. The quiet before the battle. Suddenly, something occurred to him: _Why didn't Dick go after these guys? After we talked last night, why did he just leave?_

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. _I'm having a word with him_ , he thought decidedly, whipping out his Batphone.

One ring. Then two. "Hello?"

"Hi, Dick," Bruce said stiffly. "I'm about to go beat up those guys who nearly killed Damian. They kidnapped Barbara, did you know that? I thought not. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed that little heart-to-heart we had, but I don't get why you left instead of being there for our son."

" _Our_ son? Well now you're just rubbing it in how gay we are," Dick replied nonchalantly. "And by the way, you're the last person that should be saying anything to me about parenting. You weren't there for that kid for sixteen years."

"I'm doing what _you told me to do_ , you son of a bitch," Bruce replied angrily. "And now, what, I'm the only one who cares?"

"I have a life, Bruce," Dick sighed. "With a lot of different things I have to worry about. That's why I've been keeping my distance, I thought you knew that."

"What is up with you? Do you care about these kids or not?"

"Of course I do."

"What is it then?"

Dick paused to cough, and Bruce waited.

"I told you it's personal," said Dick finally, getting annoyed. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

Bruce scoffed. "Really, Dick, I'm starting to think that there is no reason. Maybe you're just using this fictional 'reason' as a scapegoat when you really have nothing to say."

"I can't do this with you right now. You caught me at a bad time, I really have to go."

"Wait."

"... What?"

"Dick, you're not..."

"Not what?"

"Are you... with the bad guys? Was all of this part of the plan for you? Oh my god, it all makes sense now. That's why your actions contradict what you say. That's why you left, and why you won't come back. The Dick I knew is gone, isn't he? Isn't he?"

Nothing from Dick; just angry silence. Then, finally he said, "Isn't there someone you should be saving right now?"

_Click._

Bruce stood very still for a few seconds, and then slammed the Batphone down onto the concrete, shattering it. He then took off into the sky and continued to Penguin's mansion at a breakneck pace.

When the mansion finally came into view, he saw that the entrance was being guarded by dozens of gang members. _Yup, she's definitely in there._

He landed in front of the entrance, not giving any of the criminals any time to react before he fired his grappling hook and began pummeling with flying kick after flying kick. In the end, he was able to take down all of the guards in less than five minutes. _Let's just get this over with_ , he thought as he opened the double doors and entered the mansion.

Inside, it was eerily quiet. Bruce quickly extracted a gadget that let him hear through walls, and held it to the floor. Down below, he could faintly hear Barbara protesting through what had to be a gag in her mouth. _Of course it's the basement. It's always the basement._

Bruce descended the stairs and kicked down the basement door to find Barbara strapped to a chair with Penguin and a man in a suit looming over her, discussing something seriously. Her Batgirl costume had been removed, leaving only the tanktop and shorts that she had been wearing underneath. It wasn't immediately clear what happened to the suit, but judging by the smell of burning rubber and plastic, Bruce definitely had a hunch.

Bruce ran forward and pinned both Penguin and the man to the wall by their throats. "What's the meaning of this?" he growled. "Why did you kidnap this woman?"

"Ransom, of course," replied Penguin calmly, paying no mind to the hand gripping his neck. "The daughter of a wealthy commissioner ought to generate quite a revenue. The Gotham Police Department pays so much for so little work."

He let out a high pitched, wheezy laugh that made Bruce cringe.

"Who is this?" he demanded, nodding to the formally dressed man.

"Mr. Brooks here is one of Gotham's wealthiest political lobbyists. He's here because, well..." Penguin's voice trailed off and he grinned deviously.

Bruce pulled back his fist. "Because what?"

"I think you ought to tell him, in your own words," Penguin said to Brooks, who had been silently trembling with fear. 

Brooks gulped and closed his eyes fearfully. "Because... if her dad doesn't pay up, then someone on the Internet will pay... even more--"

Bruce's eyes widened, and he threw the man to the ground with a yell. With his other hand still holding Penguin to the wall, he pulled out his stun gun and paralyzed the trembling man, leaving him motionless on the floor. He turned to Penguin and held up the stun gun menacingly. 

"I'm not scared of that thing," Penguin scoffed. "As long as you leave me alive, I'll always come back. Like I did so many times before."

"So be it," Bruce replied. "Just be prepared to feel this, over and over again, for the rest of your life."

He held the stun gun on Penguin's skin for a few seconds, causing him to convulse and fall to the ground. Bruce calmly put the stun gun away and noticed that something had fallen out of Brooks' pocket: a digital camera.

For a moment, Bruce considered destroying it. But instead, he simply knelt down and stuffed the camera back into the man's pocket, and used one of his bat devices to alert the police.

Barbara tried to tell him something through the gag, reminding him that she was still there. He stood back up and cut her loose, removing the gag from her mouth. She stood up and put her arms around him, shaking and crying.

"It's alright, it's alright," Bruce repeated flatly, guiding her out of the room and up the stairs. 

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, but," she sniffed, "I always get like this after hostage situations."

"Gotten to be a regular thing for you," Bruce replied, the cool evening air hitting their faces as they left the mansion. It was crazy how much time had passed since he had been home. He had spent so much of his time flying that he almost felt like he'd wasted it.

Barbara laughed bitterly. "Well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I guess. Thanks for saving me. If it wasn't for you... I don't know where I'd be."

Bruce stopped walking. 

"What's wrong?" asked Barbara.

"I just can't take this anymore."

"Can't take what anymore?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. He sighed and sat down on the curb.

"Every second of every day, I am haunted by the consequences of my actions. They just keep coming, and coming..." he put his face in his hands, "... and I just keep ruining the lives of everyone around me. It's like, ever since Dick moved out, I haven't known how to be alone. What happened to me? I used to thrive on loneliness, and now I can't handle it to the point where I destroy myself and everyone who's unfortunate enough to know me."

"Bruce, this isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is. Do you know why Damien showed up instead of me last night? I was drunk, Barbara. I had jobs to do, both at home and out here, and I just didn't. I'm a failure. If it wasn't for me, you'd be safe at home after a normal day of work."

"You're not a failure," she replied softly. Bruce scoffed.

"Of course you would say that."

"I mean it. You're not."

He said nothing, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then, Barbara leaned forward and touched her lips to his.

Bruce shoved her away, a little too roughly.

" _Ow_ ," she winced, rubbing her shoulder. "What the _hell_ , Bruce!"

"I'd say the same to you," he grumbled, still partially in shock. "What made you think I liked you like that?"

Her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. "I don't know, you saved me, and you were venting to me," she stammered. "I just... misread the situation, that's all."

Bruce shook his head with a look of disgust on his face. "God, I hate it when you..."

"When I what?"

"... I have to go."

"Wait! Don't leave me here," Barbara pleaded. "What if they wake up? Please, Bruce."

With a heavy sigh, he walked back to the curb and sat down, and after about ten minutes of waiting, the police showed up and apprehended the two criminals. It felt like a weight off Bruce's shoulders when the commissioner showed up and Barbara ran to his embrace. Despite her being a very accomplished superhero, he couldn't help but think of her as a helpless damsel most of the time. _At least n_ _ow she can be helpless to someone else._

"The evidence is stored in the digital camera in his pocket," Bruce told Commissioner Gordon. "But I have to warn you, the pictures in there might be a little disturbing."

"I'm just glad you were able to save Barbara," Gordon assured him, still holding her close to him as he spoke. "I don't know what I'd do without her." She looked at Bruce remorsefully, but said nothing.

Bruce nodded and took off into the sky without another word. He had hurt everyone. How was he supposed to go home and face his family when all he did was make their lives worse?

After flying for what must have been at least a half hour, he landed on top of the bridge on the outskirts of town. He looked out at the city he had left behind: the bleak, dim streetlights, the buildings full of people that depended on him, the dark alleyways that served as cesspools of filth and villainy. The sight almost made him want to throw himself off the bridge, but he didn't.

He thought of Tim, who had hope for him still, despite never receiving any attention from him in his life. He thought of Damian, who always tried to tell him what he needed to hear, and was now wounded because of his mistakes. Of Jason, who had been blown up and deformed on Bruce's watch, and would never, ever forgive him. Of Dick, who was frustrated and angry and hiding something, and would probably never talk to him again. And he thought of Barbara, who he had endangered, traumatized, and shamed for her feelings for him.

He couldn't stay. He couldn't hurt Alfred, or even Harley, or any of the people who still had a sliver of faith in him. Gotham didn't deserve him, and it definitely didn't need him.

He took off in the opposite direction of the city and disappeared into the evening fog.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This chapter is kind of a special one; if this were a TV show it would be the season 1 finale. It's different from all the other chapters, and it's longer, but everything that happens in it is necessary to Bruce's personal development, as well as the development of the story as a whole. Hope you enjoy!

Bruce disposed of the Batman suit as soon as he found a bush thick enough. Granted, it was on the side of a highway, but the more obscure the location was, the less likely it was that anyone would ever find it and retrace his steps. It almost made him sad to see it all crumpled up and hidden like that. 

The next thing was his personal belongings. He hadn't brought many gadgets that there weren't already copies of in the Batcave, so he disposed of those too. He stopped when he got to his wallet. 

_Three, four, five hundred dollars_ , he counted mentally, flipping through all the cash he had stowed away in there. _Not bad, but not great either. Looks like I'll be slumming it for a while._

He then snapped each of his credit cards in half. Or at least he tried to. Whenever he was almost there, he would chicken out and then shove it in his pants pocket. With nothing but those, the cash, and the clothes on his back, he began to walk.

 _Selfish? This isn't selfish_ , he rationalized. _I used to be a symbol of justice, a symbol of hope, but now I'm not. I'm the opposite. It's the right time to quit. With me gone, everyone will thrive. Damian will take over the company, Barbara will find a man that loves her and treats her right, and Dick..._

He felt a lump in his throat and had to blink back tears.

_Dick will be just fine._

It occurred to him as each car rolled past that he could still be recognized. After all, he was Bruce Wayne, the wealthiest man in Gotham. So wealthy that his company practically ran itself, and he could focus his attention on saving people, serving justice--

_Okay, don't make yourself any guiltier than you already are._

He tried to think of what he could use to mask his identity. Clark probably had the right idea with the glasses, but Bruce never kept anything like that on him. ( _I wonder if I could walk to Metropolis from here_ , he thought.) He would have to find something else. His thoughts wandered back to the discarded Batman suit, and with a groan, he walked back to the bush where he had stashed his things.

He winced as he used the sharp edges of his Batman armor to rip his cape into medium sized squares. He picked a manageable looking one and tied it around his face, tugging it down so it covered his mouth and just barely covered his nose.

 _Not the best looking bandana, but it'll do_ , he thought with slight satisfaction. _I look like a BDSM cowboy._

He continued. Bruce didn't like walking much, or solitude. His feet got sore, and his mind always drifted to subjects he didn't enjoy thinking about: his parents, the way the long, dark corridors of Wayne Manor felt heavy in their absence, the people he couldn't save, the people he failed, Jason's incident, the way he had squandered his relationship with Dick before it even started...

He felt a sharp pain in his chest and he doubled over. _Is this what remorse is? I guess I deserve this._

He was experiencing another sensation, too: the one in his stomach. It had been so long since he ate anything, it was practically digesting itself to a pulp. _The sooner I come across a truck stop, the better._

The gravity of what he was doing hadn't exactly hit him yet.

When he finally did come across a truck stop, the only place to eat was a shady-looking restaurant that had the name Lola's Diner in big neon letters next to a smiling cartoon waitress. A sign in the window said that they had slashed the price of their chicken strip meal down to $1.99. Bruce tried not to think about what kind of chicken parts could cost that little.

 _Beggars can't be choosers._ Bracing himself against the cold, harsh winds of the interstate, he headed through the double doors. 

The air inside smelled like stale frying oil and whatever wipes they used to clean the tables. It wasn't warm and it wasn't cold. It felt kind of like an airplane, and it made Bruce slightly nauseous, but he knew he had to eat something.

He sat down at the counter and read the menu overhead. They were advertising their new lobster sandwich, going at $4.50. A quote from Dick crossed his mind:

_"Listen, I worked at a diner as a teenager," he had laughed across the dining table, holding a glass of red wine in one hand, "And I know one thing for sure, and that's that you don't order the seafood. Ever. Just don't do it. We always had the same shit sitting in the freezer for, like, a week at a time. Also, the stuff we cleaned the tables with was mostly water."_

_"What?" Bruce had laughed. "Are you serious?"_

Bruce cracked a smile in spite of himself before the remorse settled in once again. _How did I go and ruin something like that?_

He thought back to the phone he destroyed and wondered if anyone had tried to leave him any messages yet. He didn't notice that there was a waitress in front of him until she said, "Welcome to Lola's, what'll you have?"

"Oh. I'll have the, uh," Bruce stammered as he scanned the menu for whatever was the least risky, "I'll just have a plain hamburger and fries, please."

She jotted it down quickly and asked, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Uh, coffee would be nice."

There was only one other person sitting at the counter: a girl about Tim's age, who was visibly nervous as she held her cash on the table, waiting for her food. She was shifting around in her seat, and kept looking at the people standing outside, and then at Bruce, and then at the clock. She clearly wanted to get out as fast as possible. Bruce studied her with concern. _What was an elementary school kid doing alone at a truck stop with a fistful of cash?_

He looked around to see if any of the staff had caught on, but it seemed none of them had. 

"Here's your coffee, sir."

He took the coffee from the waitress, not taking his eyes off the child. "Um, I'm sorry, do you know if that girl came here alone?"

"No idea," she said with a shrug. "She's been here a while, though. Ordered the lobster. Seafood takes longer, because--"

"Because you have to thaw it," said Bruce quietly. "Because it's frozen."

The waitress pursed her lips and left to the kitchen without another word. Bruce mustered up the nerve to get the girl's attention. 

"Excuse me," he said politely. The girl turned and looked at him, wide eyed. "Are your parents around? Did you come here alone?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Uh," Bruce stammered. That's not the kind of answer a child usually gives. "I'm just a, uh, concerned citizen."

She turned back to the clock. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking." She started to jiggle her leg again. Her vague responses were only worrying him further. Something was very, very wrong. He waited a few moments before trying again.

"You know what my friend told me about diner lobster?" he mentioned. 

"... What?" she asked tentatively.

"It sits in the freezer for weeks," he explained. "And that's why it takes so long for you to get it. They're thawing it back there."

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh."

The waitress emerged from the kitchen with the lobster sandwich. "Here you go sweetie, sorry it took so long."

The girl eyed it uncertainly. "Actually, can I have this to go, please?"

"You got it," said the waitress, taking it back to the kitchen and returning a few moments later with a styrofoam takeout box. "Have a nice day."

"You too, miss," replied the girl, taking the box in both hands and hopping off of the stool.

Bruce waited until she left, and then called the waitress over. "Can I have mine to go as well?"

Minutes later, Bruce came out of the restaurant with his to-go box, scanning the area for the girl. Then he saw her about two buildings away, walking with her head down past groups of truckers, hitch-hikers, and druggies alike. Bruce ran in her direction, slowing down to a walk when he was a few feet behind her.

"Hey, are you sure you're alright?" he called out. She turned around and looked up at him with surprise and fear. 

"It's none of your business," she squeaked, walking faster than before.

"Are you lost? Did you run away?"

She tripped and fell, her to-go box skidding across the ground and into a nearby gutter. She sniffed and began rocking back and forth.

"It's none of your business!" she repeated tearfully.

"That's okay, calm down," Bruce said softly. "I'm just concerned because I have kids of my own, you know. I have a son about your age."

"... You do?"

"Yeah, I sure do, and I wouldn't want him to be alone in a place like this."

( _You took him to more dangerous places than this when he was eight._

 _Quiet, you._ )

"... What's your name?" she asked him.

 _Batman is gone and so is Bruce Wayne._ "My name? It's... Fred. Fred Gray."

"Oh."

"What's yours?"

"... Michelle."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Michelle."

She said nothing, just looked down shyly. Bruce's attention drifted to the wad of dollars and coins in her pocket.

"How much cash do you have?" he asked.

"Um, I don't know, I didn't count it," she admitted.

"Want me to help you?"

"Okay."

She laid out her money on the ground and Bruce counted it up.

"Well, what you have there is forty-eight dollars and thirty-seven cents. That's not gonna get you very far out here, trust me. So, if you want, I can find you a motel or something to sleep in."

"I don't know..."

"You don't have to fess up about why you're here, or about your parents. I just don't want you to sleep outside or anything."

She looked out at the horizon. "Okay."

Relief washed over him. "Let's find a motel." He offered her his hand, but she got up on her own. 

As they walked toward the nearest motel, a shabby looking place called the Rest-Eazy, he noticed that she kept looking over at him expectantly. _What does she want me to do?_

He realized. S _he doesn't know what_ I'm _doing here_. _Well, that explanation will have to wait. Maybe indefinitely._

"A room, please," he said once they were at the front desk.

"Fifty dollars," said the clerk. Michelle began to reach into her pocket, but Bruce stopped her.

"I've got it," he said, paying with his own cash. She blushed but said nothing.

The clerk gave them the key to room 27. When they got there, Bruce unlocked the door and pushed it open, and a wave of musty air hit them both in the face. Bruce winced and coughed.

"You haven't been to a place like this before, have you?" asked Michelle with slight amusement. 

"No. Have you?"

"Yep." Like most kids, it made her visibly happier to know things that grown-ups didn't. She plopped down on the dusty bed and sighed.

"Alright, check-out is at 2 pm tomorrow," Bruce said with finality. "Good luck."

He was about to close the door when she cried out, "Wait!"

He stopped and looked at her.

"Can you stay with me? I don't want to be alone here."

Bruce cringed as memories of his last talk with Barbara flashed through his mind. "Okay, I'll stay."

Michelle grinned. She patted the spot next to her and asked, "Do you like TV?"

Bruce chuckled. "Sure I do."

"Then let's watch some."

They watched basic cable while sharing the hamburger and fries from the diner. Bruce was so starving that even though he knew the food was mediocre, it tasted to him like the best thing in the world. And it appeared that Michelle felt the same.

Even though he had taken off his bandana to eat, there was no indication that she recognized him. _I guess CEOs aren't as recognizable to kids as they are to adults_ , he thought with relief.

After hours of watching TV, Bruce looked outside the window to find that the sun had gone down and it was pitch black. The only thing illuminating the room was the blue glow of the television, and Michelle was leaning against him sleepily.

"I think it's time for bed," he said decidedly.

"Yeah," Michelle yawned, laying down on the bed and rolling herself up in the covers. Bruce took the other bed.

"I don't know if I should ask you this," she said sheepishly. "But, um... where's your family?"

 _Oh christ. I knew this was coming._ "At home."

"Oh."

"I left them there because...," Bruce sighed. "I needed space."

"So you ran away?"

"I... I guess you could say that."

A long silence passed before Michelle spoke again. "Do dads usually need space?"

"No, not usually," Bruce admitted shamefully. "... Why do you ask?"

"It's just that, a long time ago, my dad did the same thing you did."

Bruce's heart sunk. He looked over at her, but she was laying on her side with her back to him. 

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She shrugged. "That's not the worst part. The worst part is that my mom doesn't care about me at all."

"Why do you say that?"

"She's working all the time. Even when she's at home. My dad was the one who was always around, and now that he left, it's like I have no parents at all," she said bitterly. "That's why..."

"Why what?"

"Nothing."

"Why you ran away?"

Her shoulders tensed up. "I didn't mean it," she said, her voice cracking. 

She started weeping into her pillow and Bruce sat up. "Michelle, I want you to listen to me."

She stopped weeping and sniffled quietly.

"No matter how you feel right now, there's one thing that definitely has to happen, and that's you going home."

She shook her head.

"Yes. Think about it kid, you just left your mom all alone. Now she has no kid _and_ no husband."

Michelle started sobbing. _That might've been a little too much._

"But she'll be so mad if I come back!" she cried.

"She won't. She'll be relieved that her ten year old daughter isn't gone forever."

"I'm eight," Michelle sniffed.

"Good god..." Bruce shook his head. _Okay, I have to say something to get her to calm down._ "You wanna know why I'm here and not at home?"

"Sure..."

He sighed. "I've done bad things. I've hurt a lot of people."

Michelle was silent. 

"And," he continued, "I decided it would be best for everyone if I left."

She still said nothing.

"I know. I'm sorry, Michelle. I'm a bad person."

"No," she said.

"What?"

"You're not bad," she stated, turning over to face him. "Bad people don't constantly worry about being bad. They don't care. But you do."

Bruce smiled slightly. "That's a nice sentiment," he replied, "but I've made some real bad mistakes that I still haven't made up for. My son... he, uh..."

His eyes started to water. "My son got hurt really bad when I was supposed to be taking care of him. Actually, it happened to two of my sons... And I really don't want any of that to happen again." His eyes began to water; there was no holding it back anymore.

Michelle got out of bed and walked over to where he was, wrapping him in a tight hug. "It won't. It won't if you say it won't."

Bruce tried to get a hold of himself. "Right, right, you're right, but I've been driving away friends, too, and the person I'm in love with--"

"If you want to make it up to them, then make it up to them," she told him. "Don't just run away."

Bruce dried his eyes. This girl had no idea that she was the first one in decades to see Bruce Wayne cry. "Thank you," he said. "I'll try. I mean it."

After that cathartic exchange, they each went to bed and fell silently into comfortable sleep.

 _I saved someone today_ , thought Bruce contently as his eyelids grew heavy and closed. _And she also might've saved me._

\---

When Bruce first opened his eyes the next day, he couldn't remember where he was, but then the memories came rushing back. He looked at the clock: half past one.

"Michelle?" he said gently.

"Yeah?" she mumbled.

"I think we should check out early," he said. "We can't afford to lose any more daylight."

She nodded in agreement and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I can't wait to get home and brush my teeth."

Bruce chuckled. "Me too."

"I'm glad you're going home," she said sincerely. "I'm sure they miss you as much as I miss my dad."

Bruce's smile faded. "The only thing is, I don't know how we're gonna get home. I guess I can walk, but... how far is your house?"

"I live on 546 Shadowcrest Lane, in Gotham. Apartment number 309."

"That's on my way. Good."

"Where do _you_ live, Fred?"

"The... downtown area," he said vaguely.

"Oh."

Lying to her was starting to make Bruce feel bad, but he didn't show it. "Well, let's get walking."

Despite his newfound perspective on his family and his life, Bruce still hated walking. Especially on the side of the interstate with a kid to watch out for. He thought with dread of the long stretch of road leading up to the bridge. It would take forever to get home now that he wasn't flying a part of the way. _Unless..._

He could still remember where he stashed the suit. _Maybe when we get there, I can take it out and use it to fly again. Oh wait, no dice. I ripped up the suit to make that useless bandana._ He chided himself mentally for being so stupid. The suit still had rocket boosters in the feet that he could use to get off the ground, but he didn't even know if they still worked...

"You said you're in love with someone, who is it?" Michelle blurted out suddenly. 

"It's, uh," he tittered nervously, "my best friend. And former roommate."

"Well," she replied, "I hope she's not mad at you right now."

Bruce stifled a laugh. "Yeah, me too."

As they got closer and closer to the spot where he stashed the suit, Bruce got more and more confused about what was the right thing to do. _If I let her see it, it'll reveal my secret identity. Not my name, granted, but my appearance. But on the other hand, who would believe a little kid?_

He decided that returning her to her mother as Batman was better than doing it as Bruce Wayne. When they reached the spot, he stopped walking.

"What is it?" asked Michelle.

"I have something to tell you, and you have to promise not to freak out."

"... Okay," she replied nervously.

"I stashed something in this bush. A possession of mine," he continued. "And once you see it, you'll know something about me that nobody else knows."

She stared expectantly, and with a deep breath he reached into the bushes and took out the Batman mask. She gazed at him in awe, mouth agape as he put it on his head.

"You're Batman?" she exclaimed. "Oh my gosh I can't believe I met Batman!"

Bruce shushed her.

"Oh," she said, more quietly this time. "Sorry."

"The reason I'm telling you this is because I'm gonna fly you the rest of the way home using the rocket boosters in the suit."

"You shouldn't have left Gotham," she scolded him. "That city needs you. That's what everyone says."

"I know...," said Bruce sheepishly, in the process putting the rest of the suit on.

"Hey, can you do the Batman voice?"

"... I'm Batman," he growled. Michelle clapped gleefully.

"Alright, now hold on," he said, holding his arm out to her. "We're going up." She held onto him fearfully as they lifted off the ground and shot through the air towards the city. 

"I can't believe Batman's real name is Fred Gray," she shouted over the rushing air. "I promise I won't tell anybody."

"Thank you!" Bruce shouted back. "I appreciate that."

When they touched down in front of her apartment building, Bruce let go of her, only for her to go back to hugging him. "Thank you, Batman," she whispered.

_Those three words are why I do it._

She ran into the apartment building and closed the door, and Bruce waited to see if she would get in okay. He saw the lights in one of the windows turn on, and a few moments later, Michelle and her mother appeared in the window. Her mother was holding her tightly and crying, and Michelle held her tightly back. They both waved at him, and he waved back.

Someday, when she was older, she would find out what Bruce Wayne looks like and put two and two together, but for now, he was just a regular citizen who put on a suit to help people. He liked that, actually. He mouthed, "Goodbye" and took off into the sky.

 _My work here is done_ , he thought. _Man, I missed thinking that._

\---

Standing on his own doorstep felt so foreign now. The house was quiet; there was no way of telling what was happening inside. Bruce's heart was thumping out of his chest as he tried to remember what he learned on his journey: _My family misses me. Coming home and making things right is the best option._

He held his breath and opened the door.


	6. Chapter 6

It could only be described as a manic flurry of emotion. When Bruce walked through that door, it was like every emotion had been wrenched out of everybody at once: regret, relief, joy, shock-- it was overwhelming, to say the least.

Everyone was there: Alfred, Dick, Jason, Damian, Tim, Barbara, and even Harley. It was clear that they had been looking for him all day because of their tired expressions and the fact that they were all suited up. Dick had also apparently gotten a haircut-- Bruce hoped this wasn't a sign that they had broken up.

Many tearful reunions, sheepish apologies, and long-winded explanations later, they were all seated in the parlor, drinking coffee and talking. (Except for Alfred, who always insisted on going to bed early.)

"For some reason, I thought it was my fault," Damian confessed. "I thought you left because maybe I made you feel bad, or something."

"I definitely thought it was my fault," Barbara piped up. "I mean, I was the last person to see him after all."

"I thought you were guilty about what happened to me," added Jason. "It seemed like the logical choice."

"No, no, it wasn't any of you," Bruce assured them. "It was me. I was so confused and exhausted by my own choices that I just ran. It was selfish of me. I wasn't thinking straight. And it took me being away from you guys for me to realize that."

"And, apparently, an eight year old runaway," said Dick. "Seriously, what are the odds of coming across one of those?"

"I think rescuing someone like that was another thing that made me realize how much people need me," Bruce admitted. "Before, I deluded myself into thinking I did more harm than good. I couldn't see that I wasn't alone. I had all of you guys there to help me, and all I could see was my own stupid internal monologue..."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, Bats," said Harley, stirring sugar into her coffee. "I can tell you're a changed man. I've changed a lot myself, so I'm kind of an expert."

"Also, weren't you a psychologist?" asked Damian. 

"Oh yeah."

Tim set his hot chocolate aside and yawned. 

"Ready for bed, champ?" asked Dick.

"Yeah," he replied sleepily. 

"Brush your teeth!" Bruce reminded him as everybody else called out things like, "Goodnight, Tim!" and, "Sweet Dreams!"

"I think I'll go to bed too," said Damian, getting up. "It's been a long day."

"I second that," said Jason, also getting up. Another chorus of "Goodnight"s soundtracked their ascent up the staircase, and then it was just the three adults sitting contently 

"So," said Dick to Bruce as soon as they were gone, "your disappearance wasn't related to our relationship, was it?"

"Wait, you guys are..?" Barbara stammered, pointing to each of them. Dick nodded, and she blushed red, looking down at her feet.

"Well, it was related to everything," Bruce replied vaguely. "But I guess, yeah, I didn't want to disappoint you."

Dick nodded thoughtfully but said nothing.

"I think I'd better go," said Barbara, collecting her belongings. "I have to get up early tomorrow for work."

"Ditto," said Harley.

"You have a job?" asked Bruce incredulously.

"God, no. But I left my new cheetah at my place and he's probably tearing up all my shit."

"Ah," said Dick sarcastically. "Of course."

"You better not bring that cheetah around there like you did with the heyenas," Bruce warned her.

"Pfft, what am I? Crazy?" she replied with a smirk. 

She and Barbara left, leaving Dick and Bruce alone. 

"You know? I'm actually not tired at at all," Bruce conceded. "I probably should be, after the day I had, but... I kind of feel like my day is just getting started."

"Wanna go somewhere?" Dick offered.

Bruce's face broke into a wide grin. "I'd love to."

"Alright, I'm gonna get changed into some normal clothes and let Alfred know we're leaving," Dick replied, walking away.

Bruce noticed that he had developed a limp in his absence. 

\---

They pulled the car into the parking lot of the 24-Hour Bowling Alley, a seedy-looking place with a funny smell. But neither of them paid any mind; they were so extensively trained in combat that there weren't many places they couldn't handle.

"Two pairs, please," Dick told the clerk.

"What size?"

Dick told him his. Bruce stammered out, "Uh... seven."

"What?" Dick laughed. "How did I never know you had tiny feet?"

"Shut up," laughed Bruce, shoving him playfully.

The alleys were desolate. Eerie, almost. There was nobody there at that hour, and all that could be heard was the blaring of pop music over the loudspeakers. They picked a random lane and started putting their shoes on.

"You know what I like about you, Dick?" Bruce said jovially. "You're so... easygoing. I don't know how you do it."

Dick scoffed. "Well, that's the thing. Being easygoing isn't internal at all, it's an attitude that you wear. Even if you're freaking out on the inside, you put on this facade of coolness because you wanna show the people around you a good time. I'm an entertainer like that."

"How noble of you," Bruce replied sarcastically, picking up his bowling ball. "Alright, now watch this."

"You're getting started already? I was gonna order some food," Dick muttered, menu in hand.

"It's one o'clock in the morning and you're hungry?" Bruce asked in disbelief.

"Um, yeah. Because I was running around Gotham looking for you all day, genius."

Bruce put down the ball and sat next to him, staring at the same menu. "God, I can't remember the last time I had potato skins."

"I'm getting a burger," Dick decided, handing the menu to Bruce. "You know me."

"For such a pretty-boy, you eat like a truck driver."

"Oh, and a vanilla milkshake. Can't go wrong."

After they ordered, Bruce picked up the bowling ball once again. "Okay now watch this, this time for real."

He sent the ball barreling down the lane, only for it to knock out one pin. Behind him, Dick threw his head back and laughed. "Wow, Brucie! You're a professional!"

Bruce couldn't help but laugh with him. "Alright, let's see you try."

Dick also knocked out one pin, and by the time the food arrived, they realized that they were both terrible at bowling.

The potato skins were perfectly crisped up on the outside, and the insides were buttery and soft. Melted cheddar and sprinkles of bacon covered the top and flowed over the sides. Bruce consumed them ravenously; he didn't even know that he had been that hungry. Dick, meanwhile was taking huge bites out of his cheeseburger that sent grease spilling down onto the plate. He was dipping his fries in his vanilla milkshake. For bowling alley food, it was pretty damn good.

"How am I still hungry?" asked Bruce, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling.

"If you want, I can get another straw for the milkshake."

"What a cliche," Bruce scoffed. "Sure."

The sweet, thick substance disappeared rapidly as they drank out of their respective straws. Whenever they made eye contact, it would quickly turn into a giggle fit as they tried to get a hold of themselves again. And when it was gone, they just sat there, side by side. 

"Was this our first date, do you think?" asked Dick.

"Yeah, I think it was."

"Look at us. We're like a couple of grade schoolers."

Bruce smiled and they turned to each other. The time was right, and so their lips finally met. Dick was the one to eventually pull away.

"Vanilla," Bruce remarked of the taste.

"Checks out," Dick replied. "I'm gonna go pay our bill."

Bruce watched him leave with slight concern. Seriously, why was he limping so much?

Dick finished paying and signaled that it was time to go. Bruce got up and followed him out the door. 

The drive home was quiet. A little too quiet. So, when they were halfway home, Bruce decided to make conversation.

"I actually like the shaved look on you," he said with a fond smile. "It makes you look badass."

Dick pulled over the car.

"Woah, sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

"I can't do this. I have to be honest with you about something. I didn't want to tell you this today because I didn't want to ruin the happy occasion, but... I can't keep letting you think everything is fine when it isn't."

"Tell me whatever you want, Dick."

"What you did yesterday made me realize something about why I left."

"What?"

"When I moved out, I was running," he confessed. "I can't blame you for what you did because I did it first. I guess that's what we have in common. We expect ourselves to solve other people's problems when we can't solve our own."

Bruce waited to see if he would say anything else.

"Instead of accepting help," Dick continued, "and love and support from you guys, I decided to run away and hide my problems. I guess a part of me thought that if I ran far enough, none of you would be affected by it. By any of it."

"Any of what?"

He turned away and looked out the window. 

"Dick, you don't have to tell--"

"Cancer."

All of Bruce's thoughts dissipated. He wasn't sure if he had heard him correctly. No, he couldn't have. "What?"

"I have cancer."

"Cancer?" 

Dick kept staring out at the horizon. "Please don't get all emotional about it."

He had to be joking. Bruce struggled to communicate all of the questions he had. "S-seriously? When? How?"

"Towards the end of us living together, I was starting to have some really bad pain. I went to the doctor and they told me I have bone cancer. So I left. I didn't want you guys to deal with that. I was almost ashamed of it. There I was, this big shot superhero, and the thing that would finally take me down was cancer. What a joke."

It took a while for Bruce to find the words to reply. "Dick, you should have told us. We could've helped you, we could've helped you get treated... how bad is it?"

"It's... well, I won't lie to you, it's in the later stages," Dick replied, putting the car in drive. "But the treatments I've been getting are working really well. I'm just glad that none of you guys saw me at my worst."

"So that's why..."

"That's why I shaved my head, yeah. My hair was starting to fall out. But it doesn't look so bad this way, in my opinion. And they said I might be able to grow it back out soon, so..."

Bruce slumped down in his seat; he was at a loss. Dick drove them home in silence, occasionally glancing over at Bruce to see how he was feeling. If Bruce had known that Dick was going through _this_...

"I know this probably isn't the right time to say this," Dick spoke up as he drove them through the open, iron-wrought gates of Wayne Manor, "but now that you know, I think there's a possibility that I could move back in. Running is never the answer, we both learned that yesterday. But I don't know if you want me back now."

"Yes," Bruce said.

"Wait... really?"

"Yes. Move back in. It'll take me a while to process what you told me today, but right now all I know for sure is that we have to spend as much time as we can together. Before... anything happens."

"You really have changed," Dick said with a small smile. "I'm glad you understand that I couldn't kiss you and lie to you. And to tell you the truth, I've been doing good. I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

"C'mere," said Bruce, pulling him in for another one before getting out of the car and leaning through the window. "Please stay safe."

It took him a while to fall asleep that night. Dick had _cancer_. That fact kept replaying over and over again in his head as he lay in bed, eyes wide open. He mustered up the brainpower to push the thought away. The news may have been scary and upsetting, Dick didn't want Bruce to worry about it, so he wouldn't. He closed his eyes, let his mind go blank, and drifted off into an anxious sleep.

\---

"Dick is moving back in?!" Tim repeated with exhilaration. Bruce had gathered the family around that morning and told them the good news. He hadn't told them about the cancer, because he was still processing it himself. He was only going to tell them once he was sure that he could treat it with maturity and respect.

"Yep. He decided he shouldn't have left us in the first place."

Damian sighed as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank goodness, I really missed him."

Jason, who had been eyeing Bruce suspiciously, asked, "Why?"

"Sorry?"

"Why is he deciding to move back in all of a sudden?"

"Well, because he realized he was wrong," Bruce replied simply. Jason narrowed his eyes but said nothing. 

"Master Dick always used to assist me, albeit unnecessarily, with my household duties," recalled Alfred. "And I didn't realize how accustomed to it I had grown until he moved away. I am glad to hear he'll be returning."

"What he said," Tim added with a huge grin. Damian was staring at his phone with his brow furrowed in concern.

"Damian, everything alright there?" asked Bruce.

"I just got a text from Harley that says, 'Turn on the news'", Damian answered uneasily.

Bruce scoffed as he reached for the remote. "That cheetah she adopted is probably eating people or something."

He turned the channel to the news, which was showing a shot of the mental hospital. His heart sank. He could already tell what had happened.

A female news anchor was standing in front of the mental hospital, trying to remain professional while trembling with fear. "According to local authorities, Joker actually escaped from the facility a couple of days ago. But none of them noticed until today because he apparently hired a body double to take his place in his cell. Nobody knows how this was done, but one thing is for sure: local law enforcement will now be devoting all of their attention to finding and apprehending this dangerous criminal."

Bruce's jaw clenched and he turned to look at his family. Tim was clinging to Damian, whose eyes were wide. Jason's face remained stoic and serious, but his chest was rapidly rising and falling. Alfred was looking at the ground with his eyes shut.

"Until this matter is resolved," Bruce told them seriously, "nobody is leaving this house."

He got up and left to the Batcave.


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you mean you can't get home right now?" Bruce demanded frantically into the phone.

"I told you already, I'm at the oncologist," Dick replied with annoyance. "I'm in the waiting room, and I think they're about to call me soon."

Bruce felt a pang in his chest. The love of his life had cancer, and the man he feared the most was on the loose. Things were happening fast, and the panic was settling in faster. "Dick, _he_ escaped. You have to get home and lock all the doors."

"I know, they have the news turned on here. After my appointment, I'll run right home and do all the things you said, I promise. But this is really important. Okay?"

"Please be careful," said Bruce before hanging up and turning to face the Batcave's arsenal of weapons. He chose smoke grenades, a grappling hook, and the special fists for the batsuit that electrocuted with each punch.

He was about to suit up before he heard his surveillance system alerting him. Somebody was at the front gate. He turned on the cameras to see Barbara's car waiting out there with her sitting anxiously inside. He covered his face with his hands and reluctantly let her in. Sometimes, she could be really stupid.

Since Joker had apparently been gone for days, he could be anywhere in Gotham. Bruce shuddered to think of what he had been planning while out and about. He pushed the thought from his mind and resumed putting on the batsuit.

When he finally emerged from the Batcave, he found the house quiet and empty except for Barbara, who appeared to be just as confused as he was.

"Alfred? Boys?" he called out. 

No answer.

"Barbara, where is everybody?"

"I don't know. I just got here and found everybody gone."

Bruce felt sick. His heart was going 1,000 miles a minute. "Go down to the Batcave and pick out a suit. It's up to us now."

\---

It had been a long, long time since they had flown side by side like this. And, given the chance, he would've chosen someone else to do this with. Back in the day, Barbara had been cool and collected, but lately she had just been acting so... helpless. God, he hoped Dick was able to get home okay.

"Look!" said Barbara, nodding towards the nearest skyscraper. Bruce looked and saw that there was a bat signal on the roof, identical to the one at the police department, except this one had a sickly green hue. They shared a look and then glided in the direction of the building.

They landed in front of the signal to find that the entrance to the roof had been emblazoned with the Joker's white, bony, smiling face. Through the cracks in the door, they could see flashing green-and-purple lights. It wasn't just the bat signal he had taken over.

"No doubt about it, he's here," said Bruce. He was about to go inside when Barbara stopped him, her whole body trembling.

"Bruce, do you remember the last time Joker escaped?" 

Bruce didn't want to think about it. He hadn't in so long. He shook his head, trying to get the memories out of his brain.

"Do you remember how because of him, I was crippled? How I couldn't walk for months and had to go to physical therapy every day?"

"Yes," Bruce uttered through clenched teeth. "I remember."

Barbara was looking at him with wide, scared eyes. "Bruce, I don't know if I can do this."

Suddenly it occurred to him. The Joker incident was what had done it. Before, she was the cool, badass Barbara he liked, but afterwards, she became the shy, scared Barbara that he couldn't help but be annoyed by. God, how could he have been so selfish?

"You need to listen to me," he said firmly, looking into her eyes. "I know you can do this. You've faced him many, many times before, and you're still here. That last time you faced him... that wasn't your fault. That was nobody's fault. And even though you think he won that time, he didn't. Why? Because you lived, and now you're back on your feet and about to fight him again."

She looked at the ground shamefully. "You have no idea how much he weakened me."

"He didn't, Barbara, unless you make yourself think he did. You're stronger than you think. Trust me."

She looked back up at him now, and he thought he could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She took a deep breath. "I'll trust you. Because our friends and family are in there, and I want to save them."

"That's as good a reason as any," he said, breaking eye contact to open the door. 

The stairwell was lit up with flashing green-and-purple light. They descended the stairs and didn't speak a word, trying to remain as alert as possible. They got to the first hallway.

"You take this one, I'll take the floor below it," Bruce instructed. Barbara nodded and started exploring the top floor hallway. Bruce continued down the stairs and stepped into the hallway on the next floor down. Each corridor was decorated like a carnival, with flashing lights, deflated balloons, and ripped neon streamers covering every wall. It was nauseating.

He made his way down the hellish, colorful hall as stealthily as possible, peering through each windowed door in search of his loved ones. Finally, he got to the door at the end of the hall. It had no windows, but he could hear a commotion coming from inside. He took a deep breath and threw the door open. 

What he saw looked just like a nightmare. Each of his family and friends were tied to a wall in a circular formation. The wall had a ferris wheel painted crudely on it. Under their feet was a tank of water filled with sharks. Harley, clearly having been hypnotized or brainwashed, was standing by Joker with a mallet in her hand and a dazed, lovesick look in her eyes. Everyone else had been captured and tied to the wall: Dick, Tim, Damian, Jason, Alfred, and, to his horror, Michelle. 

"Fred!" she shouted. "I knew you would make it!"

He glanced over at the Joker with horror.

"Welcome to the party, Batsy," he said with a wheezy laugh. He pushed a button on a remote that dropped a net on Bruce, trapping him in place.

"You won't get away with this," Bruce said, struggling against the net. He tried to cut it with the sharp edges of his armor, but it was made of some type of resistant, plasticky material that couldn't be cut.

"That's what they all say," Joker replied nonchalantly, walking over to where his loved ones were trapped. "Little Michelle Morgan. I thought including her was a nice touch. You know, Bats, shortly after I escaped, I heard a strange noise. I looked up at the sky and, to my delight, it was you. Loving the new rocket boosters, by the way, the cape was too silent and boring."

Bruce's jaw clenched. 

"And you had this adorable little girl in tow," he continued, turning his gaze to Michelle, who shut her eyes hard to avoid looking at him. "Did you know she's something of a child prodigy? I saw so many trophies when I was in her apartment. You should've seen it, I think you'd be proud." 

"Leave her alone," Bruce growled.

"Without this girl right here, I never would have found you so fast. From the time you reached her apartment building to this very moment, I was watching you, Batman. And I saw some very interesting things. Would anyone like to know what they are?"

Nobody said a word. Bruce gave Harley a pleading look, but she just smiled back at him with a blank stare. She was too far gone to be any help.

"I even got your little helper," Joker gloated, gesturing to Alfred. "Although, between you and me, he may be one foot in the grave already."

Alfred was looking down with a resigned look in his eyes. Seeing him like this hurt Bruce more than words could describe. Joker moved on to Dick next.

"Dick Grayson," Joker said, looking up at him and cocking his head. "It's funny. I never took you for a queer. That might be the _most_ interesting thing I found out."

Dick spat on him. Joker laughed manically, shaking his head like a dog to get it off. 

"What's wrong, Dick? My, that name is fitting, now that I think about it," he giggled. "What a punchline! You're named after your favorite thing in the world!" 

Dick ignored him and turned to Bruce. "There's something important I have to say to you while I still can," he said urgently.

Joker rolled his eyes and took some duct tape out of his pocket.

"It's good news, the cancer went into remi--," he was able to get out before Joker taped over his mouth.

Remission? It was amazing news, but Bruce didn't have time to celebrate. Cancer or no cancer, it wouldn't matter if everyone was dead.

"Sorry, Dickie, no flirting right now," Joker said insincerely. "One of the most interesting things I saw was what you two got up to at the bowling alley. I couldn't hear a word, but I was watching through the window. Boy, did I feel dirty!" 

He punctuated this remark with a cackle. Tim's confusion must have been visible on his face, because Joker turned to him next.

"What's wrong? You never saw your dad and his friend smooching? They do it all the time, from what I've seen!"

Tim looked over at Bruce, who looked away. He shouldn't have found out like this.

"Other than that, I have nothing to say to you. Sorry Timmy, but to be frank, children bore me. Next."

Joker approached Jason. 

"Jason Todd," he started, looking the young man up and down. "To be honest, I thought I killed you."

"You didn't," growled Jason through clenched teeth.

"What's that? It's hard to hear you with that mask on," Joker replied. "Ooh, I know, how about I remove that for you?"

Jason thrashed, turning his head in different directions, but Joker managed to remove the mask, revealing his damaged face. He was badly burned, and most of his skin was red and raw. The others looked away, some out of respect, and some out of squeamishness. Joker threw the mask to the ground with a clatter and moved on to Damian without another word. 

"Full disclosure, I have no idea who you are," said Joker as Damian eyed him with disgust. "I always just called you Robin number two. Utterly forgettable." 

Joker turned around to face Bruce.

"That brings me to you," he said. "The crown jewel of my collection, no offense to the rest of you. And now that I have you, I can unmask you and finally see the face of my rival. I wonder if you're as unattractive as the other guy."

As he slowly approached, Bruce could see Harley start to move out of the corner of his eye. She was walking behind the Joker and matching his footsteps. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath as Joker reached for Bruce's mask, and she brought her mallet crashing down over his head. Joker went limp and fell to the ground, seemingly unconscious. 

Everyone cheered as Harley got Bruce out of the net. "So it was all an act?" he asked, hardly able to believe it.

"Yep. I'm a good actress, aren't I?" she bragged as she began setting everyone else free and helping them down from the wall. Just then, Barbara arrived.

"Is... is it over?" she panted, staring at the unconscious Joker.

"Yes," said Dick, newly freed. "Be glad you weren't here for the rest of it."

"You'll never believe what was on that other floor," Barbara said tiredly. "He had all these circus freaks defending the building, and there must've been like, fifty of them."

"You took them all out?" Bruce asked. "That's impressive."

The Joker began to stir. They all watched with horror as he slowly sat up.

"Harley, take Tim and Michelle far away from here," Bruce ordered. "Go!"

She took the two children and ran out the door as the Joker got to his feet and looked around. 

"You weren't here before," he said to Barbara with a dazed smile. "But the more the merrier."

She shuddered, and Damian reached into his pocket and flung a throwing star at Joker, pinning his sleeve to the wall. 

"Oh," Joker laughed, "So that's how we're going to play."

He wrestled his arm free and pulled out a squirt gun, firing it at Damian. The boy fell to the ground, clutching at his face. "Oh god, my eyes!" he screamed. "It's mace!"

Dick charged at Joker, who was able to backhand him to the ground. "Not as sure-footed as you used to be," Joker remarked. "You really are sick."

Bruce used this opportunity to come up behind him and punch him in the gut, electrocuting him. Joker fell to the ground once again, and Barbara made sure he stayed there by using his own net to trap him. 

Bruce helped Dick and Damian get up. "We have to go now," he urged.

"Wait," said Jason before pulling out his gun and shooting Joker in the foot. 

Bruce jumped. "Oh my god!"

"Be thankful I didn't kill him," said Jason bitterly, holstering his gun and following Bruce. Barbara hung back.

"Barbara, come on, let's go," Bruce begged.

"Look at him," she said softly. "He looks so weak."

"I know what you're thinking, Barbara. Don't do it," said Jason. "If anything, I should've done it."

"Nobody is killing the Joker," Bruce ordered. "That's not what we do."

"Why not?" demanded Jason. "Every time we don't do it, he gets put away, and then escapes and hurts more people."

Barbara drew a blade from her pocket. "I could disfigure him, Jason. If you don't want me to kill him."

Jason hesitated. "No. He's already disfigured. There'd be no point. You're not thinking straight."

"Don't do this," Dick warned her. "If you do this, you'll have to live with it for the rest of your life."

Finally, Barbara knelt down, made a small cut in his abdomen, and stood back up. "The same spot where he shot me," she said flatly. "So that when he sees the scar, he'll know who did it."

"That's assuming he remembers where he shot you," said Dick honestly, ushering everyone out the door. "Let's go."

\---

The building's green and purple lights clashed with the police's blue and red ones, giving a confusing, disorienting feel to the whole area.

Harley had fled long before the police got there, and the two children had been returned to their respective parents. Everybody else was finishing up their testimonies to the police about what had just happened. The Joker had been put in custody. Bruce, who finished giving his testimony early, was watching everyone with satisfaction. They were all okay.

He felt a tug on his cape and turned around. It was Michelle holding her mother's hand. "Oh, hi Michelle. You feel okay, right?"

"I'm not mad at you for lying about your name," she replied sheepishly. "It was a smart thing to do."

"Oh, well that's good," he said gently. He turned his gaze to her mother. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Morgan."

"The Joker knows where we live," the woman said directly. "Will we have to move?"

Bruce sighed. "While I do think it's unlikely he'll come after you again... yes, you probably should."

The woman pressed her lips together tightly and walked away without another word. Bruce was watching them leave sadly when Michelle suddenly let go of her mother's hand, ran over to Bruce, and gave him a tight hug.

"I'm still glad I met you," she whispered. Bruce hesitated, and then hugged her back. 

"I'll miss you, kid," he said fondly as her mother led her away for the last time.

Bruce noticed that Barbara and Jason were having a very engaged conversation off to the side. It made sense; they were both around the same age, and both victims of the Joker. It was weird that they hadn't really talked much before this. He approached them and they exchanged sheepish glances.

"Bruce, can I tell you something?" asked Barbara awkwardly.

"Sure, anything."

"As much as I want to say I'm ashamed of how I acted back there," she began, "I'm not. Maybe I would be if I actually killed him, but I don't regret wanting to at all. And I don't regret my final decision, either. It felt good to be in that position of power, and it felt good to make a choice. Is that bad, or...?"

"Barbara," Bruce interrupted. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. What you showed back there was confidence, strength, and decisiveness. A sign that maybe you're ready to get back in business."

"Thank you, Bruce," she said with a sad smile. Her smile then faded and she shook her head. "There's something I didn't tell you. When you were captured and I was fighting off those circus freaks, I noticed something... off about the decorations in the room I was in. After I fought them all off, I checked it out, and found that the streamers weren't actually streamers, they were newspaper clippings that had been dyed. And the story in the paper was... about what he did to me. And that just made me snap. All of the emotions I had felt that day came flooding back. I wanted to kill him. I really did."

"I'm sorry, Barbara," said Jason quietly. "We had no idea."

"Why the hell did he save those? In case I ever came back?" she continued, her voice rising. "If we hadn't defeated him just now, what would he have done? Crippled me again?"

"That's enough," said Bruce. "Whatever he would've done, it doesn't matter. We defeated him _together_. That means us _and_ you. You're stronger than him, Barbara. Whether you think so or not."

She sighed, and her shoulders relaxed. "Thank you for that," she said shakily. Jason put his hand on her shoulder.

"I wanted to kill him, too," he admitted. "Or at least a part of me did. I've been so angry about it for so long, but then when I faced him, the anger just... wasn't there. I think it was because, when I saw him laying there like that, he looked so weak and pathetic. So unworthy of my anger." He shrugged.

"Thank you Jason. That helps." She gave him a kiss on the cheek before her father beckoned her and she walked away. Jason touched the spot where she had kissed him with awe.

"I haven't gotten one of those in a long time," he said happily. Bruce smiled and turned away to see Tim sitting alone on a bench, lost in thought.

Bruce walked over and sat down next to him. "Something on your mind, Tim?"

Tim looked up at him seriously. "I read a lot about orientation and gender and stuff. On the internet."

"Oh," said Bruce, surprised. He didn't know what he expected his son's interests to be, but... not that. "Well, that's nice."

"And I still didn't even know you and Dick were gay," he continued. "I mean, since I know a lot about that stuff, should I have been able to tell? Oh gosh, that probably sounded bad."

"Listen, son," Bruce began, and Tim's eyes lit up. He realized that this was the first time he called him son. 

"Go on," said Tim happily.

"... Knowing a lot about gender and orientation doesn't mean you can tell what other people are going through," Bruce continued. "Everyone shows things differently. In our case, we didn't show it much at all in front of you guys."

"Oh. Okay."

"Also, is there any particular reason you're so interested in that stuff, or...?"

Tim shrugged like he wasn't sure.

"That's fine. Just asking."

"... Is Dick gonna be okay? I think he said he has cancer."

Bruce gave him a reassuring smile. "Dick's gonna be okay for a while."

Tim's eyes wandered off and he pointed to Damian, who was sitting on the end of an ambulance with a damp rag on his face. "What happened to him?"

"He got pepper sprayed," Bruce replied. "As a matter of fact, I should go check on him."

He got up and approached Damian. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I should've done more," the boy replied, not moving from where he was. 

"That's a bad mindset to have," said Bruce, sitting down next to him. "What I've found after years of doing what I do is that you can never do anything perfectly. There's always something more you could've done, or a different move you could've made. So you got pepper sprayed and we had to save you. So what? Every hero has at least one fight where that happens. Hell, the same thing happened to Dick just now."

"But he's sick," said Damian, sitting up straight and removing the rag from his eyes. "Why didn't you tell us he was sick?"

This was the first time Bruce had felt intimidated by his own son; maybe it was those angry red eyes. "I just found out myself," he answered honestly.

Damian leaned back and put the damp rag back on his face. "When we got kidnapped back at the mansion, the first thing that went through my head was, 'Why didn't I stop this?'" He lifted the rag again and peeked at Bruce. "Is that bad?"

"You can't save everyone all the time," stated Bruce. "You need to know your limits. You can't have eyes everywhere all the time."

"Wish I could," Damian grumbled. Bruce ruffled his hair fondly and was about to leave when he called out, "Hey, dad?"

Bruce turned around.

"So, Joker knows where we live now."

Bruce nodded. "We're going to have to change location."

"I know, I know, but... do you think Joker knew that that was Wayne Manor?"

He opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again. "I don't... think so," he replied uncertainly. 

"And during all that time he was watching you, he had to have heard your name, right?"

Bruce was silent for a long time. "He saw things, but I don't think he was able to hear anything. And even if he did... The Joker doesn't really care about my true identity," he said finally. "He only cares about Batman."

Damian cast a worried glance at the skyscraper. "I hope so."

Bruce made eye contact with Dick from afar, who beckoned him over. "Let me know if you need anything, Damian."

Bruce walked over to Dick, who was fidgeting anxiously. "Is everything okay?"

"I was thinking about us," Dick began, "And I can't stop thinking about how we had a really good thing going for a while, and I was the one who messed it all up in the end. And for the longest time, you thought it was your fault. I want to make it up to you, but I don't know how."

Bruce gave him a kiss, and his shoulders relaxed. "The cancer wasn't your fault. That kind of thing is unpredictable, and you have nothing to apologize for. You handled everything the best you could at the time."

"Yeah, yeah, you're probably right."

"I don't think we'll ever have that perfect love life that everyone wants," Bruce reflected. "It just doesn't happen for people like us. And that's okay."

"Yeah," replied Dick. Then, with a smile, he added, "But I'm moving in with you soon, so there's that."

"You actually shouldn't move in just yet, because we're changing houses soon. Now that the Joker knows where we live, we can't stay at the mansion any longer. I have a bunch of other houses I use for storage and vacations and stuff, we can use one of those."

"In Gotham, I assume."

"Yeah."

"Well," Dick said slowly. "We can make this next house our own, can't we?"

Bruce nodded. "This might be for the best. I have a lot of memories tied to this house, and not a lot of them are good."

They were silent for a while, and then Dick laughed.

"It's funny," he said, looking up at the sky. "Here I am with a terminal illness, and yet somehow this feels like the beginning."

"Yeah," said Bruce, looking up as well. Even with all of the flashing lights, the stars in the night sky still managed to shine through. "It really does."


	8. Chapter 8

**One year later...**

They decided to go back to the beach. 

Bruce woke up that morning to the rising sun casting warm rays of light through the open window and across his body. He rolled over to face Dick, who was still asleep, snoring lightly. Bruce ran his fingers through his partner's light brown hair fondly; he had let it grow out longer than it ever was before. Not that Bruce was complaining. That's what a year of remission looked like.

He rolled back over and got up, stretching out with a yawn. He looked out the window and admired the view. Being up in the mountains like this, he got a better view of Gotham than he ever could in that mansion. 

He walked into the kitchen to find a sink that was piled high with dirty dishes. He sighed deeply and checked the calendar. It had been Jason's turn last. Since Alfred was getting up there in years, Bruce and his sons had collectively decided to pardon him from most of his chores, instead taking it on themselves. The problem was, sometimes people didn't hold up their end of the bargain.

"Jason?" he called, heading down the hall to Jason's bedroom. He knocked on the door. "You didn't do the dishes last night."

"Uh, sorry," Jason stammered. "I was doing school stuff."

It was very easy to tell when Jason was lying. "Tell me the truth," Bruce said sternly, opening the door slightly to find Jason lying in bed in the same clothes he was wearing the day before. He hadn't worn his mask in a long time.

"Okay fine, I was with Barb," Jason said with a grin.

"Oh, so now it's Barb, is it?"

"Stop teasing me! I'm getting my Master's, I don't need to take this," he replied, stretching. "Oh, also, she invited me to the beach today at 2."

"Oh, perfect. Tell her we're all coming."

"What? Hey--!" Jason exclaimed before Bruce shut the door.

He heard Dick groaning in the other room and knew that he was just now waking up. "Good morning, Dick!" he called out.

"I get it, I get it, you're a morning person," Dick grumbled back.

"We're going to the beach with Barbara today at 2 o'clock."

Dick got out of bed, walked over to where Bruce was, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Sounds good. Now help me figure out what to do with these leftovers."

He led Bruce to the kitchen and opened the fridge. They gazed uncertainly at the leftovers from last night. Damian had taken up cooking as a hobby, and although he wasn't very good, he was determined to keep trying. The only problem was that everyone else had to eat (and pretend to enjoy) his failed attempts. And it was Dick and Bruce's job to dispose of the offending leftovers before Damian woke up.

Bruce gingerly held up the tupperware filled with burnt, under-seasoned meat and vegetables. Dick was pacing back and forth, trying to come up with an alibi. 

"Okay, okay, we can tell him we had it for breakfast with some eggs," Dick suggested.

"The egg carton is still full," Bruce countered.

Dick reached into the fridge and took two eggs out of the egg carton. He then threw both eggs into the garbage disposal. 

"The frying pan," Bruce said.

Dick grabbed a clean frying pan, wet it slightly, and put it in the drying rack. Then he paused and looked at the clock. "Shouldn't the kid be up by now?"

Bruce followed Dick's gaze to the clock. He was right, it was noon. And Damian always woke up notoriously early. "He definitely came home last night... I'll call him."

Bruce pulled out his cell phone and called Damian, who immediately picked up.

"Hey, dad. I left a note."

"I didn't see it. Where are you?"

"With the Titans. Not fighting or anything, just getting lunch."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Well, can you meet us at the beach at 2? We're all gonna meet Barbara there."

"Yeah, for sure," replied Damian distractedly. One of his friends said something in the background and he laughed. "See you then, dad."

Damian hung up and Bruce sighed. 

"The kid's seventeen," said Dick with a shrug. "It's good that he has his own life."

"Jason's twenty-four and he just got to that stage recently," replied Bruce, half-jokingly. "I've gotta be messing up with one of them."

Tim trudged into the kitchen unceremoniously and groped blindly for the nearest box of cereal, their own messy hair covering their eyes. 

"Morning, kiddo," greeted Dick, smoothing their hair back and handing over the box of corn flakes. "We're going to the beach today."

"Ugh, Gotham Beach is a cesspool," Tim replied moodily, using a big word on purpose.

"And clearly, so is puberty," Bruce murmured under his breath, causing Dick to laugh.

"Well, Tim, it's not a 'cesspool' anymore," Dick assured the pre-teen, "Because Wayne Enterprises has been funding a clean-up and restoration of that very beach for months. Part of the community outreach."

Tim nodded and didn't say anything. 

"Your father has become such a goody two-shoes," Dick added fondly, looking over at Bruce.

"That's not true," Bruce chuckled. "I always was."

\---

The clean-up efforts were clearly working. What had once been a dreary, filthy testament to Gotham's gritty reputation was now a sparkling highlight of the city's coastal neighborhoods. 

"Hey, we can walk barefoot on the sand now," Bruce remarked proudly, kicking off his sandals. "No broken glass."

"All thanks to you," replied Dick with a smile. 

Jason was looking anxiously in every direction, waiting for Barbara to show up. 

"Relax, kid," said Dick, "Sit here and have a drink with us."

"Absolutely not," Bruce interjected. 

"Why not?"

"Drinking with your kids... I've just always found it weird."

Alfred, who now shuffled along slowly behind the rest of the group in his old age, finally arrived on the sand with Tim. 

"That kid always insists on staying with Alfred, so he doesn't get left behind," said Dick. "It's so cute. That's why I don't buy the whole 'moody teen' thing just yet."

"Actually, I think Tim might be replacing Jason as 'the moody one'," Bruce countered. "Now that Jason's gotten over himself, the position is open."

Barbara arrived next to them and started setting her stuff down, Jason insisting on helping her. "Sorry I'm late," she said as Jason did most of the work. "I was doing hero stuff and had to change. Someone's gotta respond to the bat signal now that you're aaaall the way up there." She pointed in the general direction of the mountains.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you take down this time?" Dick asked.

"Riddler."

Bruce was baffled. The Riddler hadn't been seen or heard in Gotham in a long time. Even Jason made a face.

"Riddler, huh," Dick said slowly. "That's... puzzling."

"Ha! Nice one." She sat down on the towel Jason had just laid out for her. "This place is looking great. Jeez, I don't think I've been here in years..."

"You have this guy to thank," Dick gloated, pointing with both hands at Bruce. "He's become pretty damn charitable recently."

"I've heard, the news talks about it all the time," replied Barbara, leaning on Jason's shoulder. "My dad and I are really proud."

"Thanks," said Bruce awkwardly. One thing stayed the same: he didn't know how to accept praise. He accidentally made eye contact with Jason, who gave him a meaningful look. "Hey Dick, wanna look at the newly improved tidepools?"

"Sure," replied Dick, standing up.

"I think those two need their privacy," Bruce explained. "Jason wasn't looking too happy with us."

Dick laughed as they climbed onto the smooth, porous rock. Unlike before, each tidepool was now clean and teeming with life. "That one kinda looks like us!" he remarked, pointing to a tidepool where two starfish -- one red, and one blue -- appeared to be holding hands.

"Awww, how cute."

The waves were crashing loudly against the rock, but Bruce could just barely hear the sound of Damian arriving onto the scene. He turned to where the noise was coming from. "Oh, no."

Damian had brought his friends along without asking, and they were mingling with everybody. There was the glowing orange one, the emo one, the bionic one, and the green one. The last two were especially rowdy. 

"His friends are a little weird, aren't they?" Dick said, wrinkling his nose.

"He seems to be hitting it off with that orange one."

"Her name's Starfire," Dick stated.

"What? Why does he tell you these things and not me?"

Dick laughed and gave Bruce a slap on the back. "Maybe he thinks I'm the straighter one out of the two of us."

"Pfft, shut up," snickered Bruce, hitting him playfully. 

They decided to walk back over to the others and mingle. Jason and Damian seemed to be having a double date with their respective love interests, which made Bruce roll his eyes. Tim seemed to be getting along with the emo-looking one. ("Raven," Dick told him.) 

Bruce pulled Damian aside, much to his annoyance. "Are you serious?"

"Okay, look. They're not gonna be here that long," Damian reasoned. "I just wanted them to meet everybody because they're my friends, you know?"

"Bruce," Dick said softly, coming up from behind and putting a hand on his partner's shoulder. "There's no reason we can't turn their double date into a triple date, right?"

Bruce understood what he was getting at and smirked. "Yeah, we could do that..."

"Oh, gross," Damian cringed, "Fine, I'll tell them to leave."

He ran off in the direction of his posse. Dick and Bruce looked at each other and laughed. 

"At least the kid has friends now," Dick said with a shrug.

\---

The sun was setting and all was quiet. No longer was there any splashing in the water or running in the sand; everyone was calm and content, the sandwiches that Dick had packed resting in their bellies.

Tim was drawing something in the sand with a stick. 

"What's that there?" asked Bruce, for the sake of conversation. 

"It's us," Tim replied, setting the stick down. "Come look."

Bruce and everyone else stopped what they were doing and came over to look. Murmurs of appreciation could be heard as they all stood around the drawing. It depicted them as they had been at that moment: Jason resting his head on Barbara's lap and Barbara running her fingers through his hair. Alfred sitting off to the side, admiring the shoreline and the distant horizon. Damien sitting calmly, lost in thought. Tim, well... drawing. And Dick and Bruce leaned back in their chairs, bent slightly towards each other, looking up at the sky.

"How remarkably detailed," Alfred said with awe. 

"I look so serious," Damian laughed. "Badass, even."

"I don't," Jason piped up. "I look like I'm sleeping."

"You look very cute," replied Barbara, patting him on the head. 

Dick cocked his head. "I think Bruce and I look very peaceful."

"A reflection of real life," Bruce added. "Or... at least I hope."

Jason wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. "Guys, it's getting really cold."

"I was actually about to take off," admitted Barbara. "It's been fun, you guys. I mean it."

"Wait! One thing first," Dick announced. He turned to Bruce. "I've been meaning to do this for months now, and I think it's finally the right time."

Bruce knew what he was talking about before he even knelt down. The others, however, gasped in surprise. 

"Bruce, will you marry me?" he asked.

For once, Bruce was sure of what to say. "Yes. Yes, I will."

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've made it to the end! Thanks to everyone who read this, and thanks to my friend Lola for requesting this :) It was fun to write! There were so many things I wanted to include in the story but couldn't, but this is basically the best version I can muster up, so... yeah. (I can't get into them all here, but if someone in the comments asks, I can maybe reveal some deleted scenes...) As always, my tumblr is @grimm-rific. I do commissions there for all sorts of different fandoms, not just DC ;) Bye!


End file.
